


The Call to Duty

by Starscream



Series: Story of the Knight Sabers [2]
Category: Bubblegum Crisis, G. I. Joe (Cartoon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starscream/pseuds/Starscream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written 10 years ago and orignally posted on Fanfiction.net. Lt. Sylia Stingray forms a unit within GI Joe, codenamed the Knight Sabers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Call to Duty

"Personally I don't go for this 'behind the lines' nonsense. As far as I'm concerned a soldier's job is to wear his uniform and kill the enemy"  
General Worden (Ernest Borgine) "The Dirty Dozen" 

 

Lt. Sylia Allison Stingray relaxed on the porch of her home in Norfolk, Virginia with a cold ice tea. Her last class she conducted before she went on leave was a rough one. She let out sigh as she thought of the lives she had changed over the course of six months. The men and women she had made, and those she had broken. Closing her eyes, she could picture the dejected faces of those she had cut; Ones who just didn't cut it were booted out in disgrace. Still, she had pushed her trainees to their mental breaking points to see who got what it takes for Special Ops. The Army cannot afford weakness, especially in Special Ops. All this had her started thinking back to the Middle East.

Her Ranger unit was charged with a mission to investigate if a mid east terrorists group had the capability to use nuclear weapons. Tracking these terrorists through the desert was no picnic. Any normal man would go nuts hiking through the endless sand dunes of the desert. Upon the discovery made by the Rangers, that these fanatics not only had nuclear capabilities, but also gain possession of chemical and biological weapons through the terrorist organization Cobra. That is when everything went apeshit; Cobra troops got the drop on Sylia and her unit despite all the precautions they took to avoid detection. Sylia was also close to being capture, but she was able to make a break for it. Her West Point training told her to get out of area, and either go for reinforcements or just cut her losses. To hell with her West Point education, she was going to try getting her teammates out of there. But her CO was already dead; the terrorist leader had him beheaded for being a spineless American dog. For that the bastard was going to pay, her CO took her under his wing and taught her how to be a leader. Despite rescuing four of her squad mates, to this day, she kicks herself for deciding to leave the rest behind but they were already goners. Those terrorists just let those soldiers bleed to death in the poorest of prison conditions. She still has nightmares about the mission.

After rescuing four members of her squad, she killed the terrorist leader with her handgun; then commandeered the truck carrying the nuclear, biological and chemical weapons to their extraction point, which the devices can be disarmed by trained personnel.

The front door closed, bringing Sylia back to present. She turned her head to her brother Mackie, who sat next to his sister in a deck chair. "So, how's college going, Mackie?" Sylia opened to her brother.

"Fine. I just finished all the necessary math courses to get into MIT's engineering school; I was planning to go into either automotive engineering or robotic engineering. Since I like working with cars, but also robotics is an expanding field." Mackie told his sister.

"True." Sylia answered before taking another sip from her ice tea; she was glad Mackie was not screwing around in college; sending him to MIT was costing her a fortune. But with some wise investments, she has made and the nest egg their father left to them before he past away helped pay the bills for both West Point and MIT. Fortunately, West Point was paid through her income tax.

"Anyway it's good have you home, Sis." Mackie gave a smile to his sister before walking back inside. Sylia continued to sit out on the porch for a little while longer. Fifteen minutes later, Mackie walked back onto the porch. "Sis?"

"Yes, Mackie?" Sylia responded in a very relaxed tone of voice.

"There's a General Abernathy on the phone for you." Mackie answered, he had a concerned look on his face, because he thought his sister was suppose to be on leave.

"Abernathy?" The Lt. asked with a feeling that this wasn't a social call. Mackie only nodded

Lifting herself from her chair, she walked into the house. "I'll take the call in my study." Sylia walked through a spacious living room and through the double doors leading into her study. It could be said that Sylia was a highly educated person; Her study had several large bookcases along the walls of her study, containing books from the classics of literature to most of the sciences; from military history to politics and more. Once at her desk, she picked up her phone. "General, what can I do for you, sir?" Sylia asked, knowing that he was running a security risk calling her at home, it must be important. 

"Lieutenant, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I know you're on leave, but I have an assignment for you that is an A-1 priority. I need you to come in ASAP...." Sylia felt disappointed as she listened to the gravelly voice over the phone. General Abernathy didn't need to say much to get his point across; a quality that Sylia liked about him. The voice over the phone softens, "I'm sorry that I had cancel your leave, Sylia. But this is an important assignment. There will be a Tomahawk waiting for you at Norfolk Navel base tomorrow morning." The General's voice had an air of finality

"I understand sir." Sylia quietly said, then she slowly hung up the phone just as Mackie walked into her study. He could see Sylia dropped her head into her hands. The first leave she has had in almost close to a year and she was only home for a week and a half.

"Sis? Is there something wrong?"

"Mackie, I'm sorry but my leave has been cut short. I have to report to the helipad at Norfolk Navel base tomorrow morning," Sylia looked at Mackie very dejected, "I'm sorry we couldn't spend some more time together. But I have to go." She added. Mackie looked at her, by his facial expression, he understood.

Sylia wished she could tell her brother about the secret missions she performed in between training classes. Most of her service record went unknown. That meant if she died during one of those missions, if would have been recorded as a training accident. Most of all the commendations and medals she received, she could never wear due to their classified nature.

Mackie was the only family she had. When Sylia was 3, her mother died of cancer about 5 months after Mackie was born. Tragedy reared it's ugly head again, Mackie was a junior in High School and Sylia was a freshman at West Point; their father died in a plane crash. Faced with the choice between her studies at West Point and her career in the military or handle all her late father's affairs and assume legal guardianship of Mackie; but Dr. Raven an old family friend offered to help Sylia with her father's estate and look after her brother, he owed her late father a debt. Also Sylia had a career and her own life ahead and should be allowed pursue it.

Sylia walked out of her study, then upstairs to her bedroom to pack. Picking up the remote control on her nightstand she turned on the Fox News Channel in time for the "O'Reily Factor," a program where the host is allowed to speak his mind and tell his guest to stow the usual Washington spin doctoring to answer questions. Unlike that crap program "Twenty Questions," and the idiot host Hector Ramirez; the son of bitch always enjoys doing hatchet job on the military for the sake of ratings. Sylia had the displeasure of being interviewed by Ramirez; the slimy bastard kept taking her statements out of context and mincing her words. Nor did she care for CNN, due to their slanted news reporting. Especially, when it came to reporting on President Clinton. Sylia never held any respect for a president who would have no compunction for using the military to divert the American public’s attention from his affair with an intern in the oval office. Also, Sylia had no respect for a president who was a draft dodger so he would not go to war, but does not care sending other soldiers to die for the sake of his legacy. She knew when Mackie turned 18 he had to register with selective services; if his number came up to be sent to a place like Kosovo, she would do everything in her power even falsifying orders if she had to, to make sure Mackie would get a non-combat assignment. There was no way in hell she would allow Mackie to be killed in some godforsaken place, so President Clinton could save his career from being tarnished by a sex scandal.

Twenty minutes later, Sylia almost done packing, placing her laptop and the necessary accessories into a carrying case. Also, she checked her briefcase to make sure she had the necessary clearance papers and her ID badge. With packing complete, Sylia went to bed early, since she planned to get up at 0500.

At 5 am, Sylia's alarm went off. Getting out of bed, she showered, put her uniform on, and then proceeded to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and read the morning paper. Leaving for Norfolk Navel Base, Sylia had Mackie come with her, not only to say good-bye but to drive her Mercedes back home since shore patrol can be an utter bitch about leaving her car on the base for an extended period of time. With a quick flash of her ID card got her past the front gate, she proceeded towards the helipad where the Tomahawk she had to take was in the process of refueling. The pilot walked up to Sylia while she picked up her briefcase from the back seat of her car, then slung the black carrying case containing her Dell laptop over her right shoulder. 

"Here, I'll take those son." The pilot offered Mackie when he was taking her suit bag and suitcase out of the trunk. 

"Lift Ticket, can you put my bags in the Tomahawk? Also I would like a minute alone with my brother." Sylia told the Tomahawk pilot; placing her briefcase to the ground, Sylia removed her sunglasses. Looking at Mackie she said to him regretfully, "Well, good bye Mackie." Sylia was not really a 'touchy feely' person but she couldn't help hugging her brother good bye. Mackie naturally return his sister's affections.

"Take care of yourself, Sis." Mackie told her as they release each other from the embrace. Picking up her briefcase, then putting her sunglasses back on, Sylia walked towards the Tomahawk. After Sylia was onboard, Lift Ticket fired up the engines; the rotors picked enough speed to lift the twin rotor helicopter off the pad; Rising higher into the air the Tomahawk headed east.

Placing her briefcase on her lap, Sylia removed two hard cover books from her brown briefcase. The books were, "The Tank in the Attack," by Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, and the "History of the Norman Conquest." Removing her bookmark in the book by the Desert Fox, she started reading, just to give herself something to do during the flight.

A few hours later, the Joe known as Clutch waited near his parked VAMP jeep and watched the Tomahawk touched down on the pad. With dust and dirt swirling in the air caused by the chopper blades, Clutch covered his eyes until Lift Ticket turned the motor off. After disembarking the Tomahawk, Sylia with Lift Ticket right behind her, carrying her luggage approached Clutch. Out of pure gut reaction, Clutch saluted the Lt., "Lt., General Hawk wants to see you ASAP. I'll drive you to the base."

"Okay, Clutch." Sylia replied before she nodded to Lift Ticket to put her suitcase and suit bag into the VAMP. The Lt. and Clutch climbed into the jeep and the driver revved it up.

Pressing down on the gas, Clutch drove the VAMP as if he was in the NASCAR races. Sylia cringed in fear as he performed exceptionally dangerous hairpin turns around Mauler tanks and rows of oil drums as he sped trough the motor pool. "Clutch! Slow down you idiot! I don't want to meet General Hawk in the form of confetti!" berated Sylia, just as Clutch peeled out nearly hitting a Wolverine armored missile launcher tank.

“What’s the matter Lt? Don’t enjoy living life on the edge?” Clutch laughed when he saw Sylia holding on to her seat for dear life

“No,” came Sylia’s reply, “I just had my entire life passed before my eyes, and I’m not too fond of the ending!” 

On the way to the base administration building, Sylia's speed demon driver zoomed the jeep through a hospital zone. Sylia saw a soldier on crutches in the middle of the road, but Clutch also saw the wounded person and casually turned the wheel to swerve away from the soldier with the busted leg. "You FUCKING MORON!" The trooper who was nearly put into the hospital a second time yelled as the VAMP sped away. At the entrance of the administration building, the Vamp came to a sudden screeching halt, which almost gave Lt. Stingray a case of whiplash. 

"Next time I need a driver, I’m going to suggest either Cover Girl or Steeler," mumbled Sylia upon climbing out of the jeep. Her legs felt like jelly as she touched solid ground. "Clutch take my luggage and my laptop to my quarters, and I want them there in one piece, or you will be scrubbing the latrines until HELL FREEZES OVER!" The Ranger told her driver with a very severe look in her eyes, Clutch gulped in fear when he got the message.

Once walking into the office of General Clayton Abernathy, aka General Hawk, Lt. Stingray snapped to attention and saluted the superior officer in front of her. "Lt. Sylia Stingray reporting as ordered, sir." 

Hawk rose from his desk and returned her salute, "at ease, Lt." Hawk told her; with an extended hand he offered Sylia a seat. General Hawk was a man in his early to mid 40's with jet-black hair and a gravelly voice. He wore forest green and olive drab camouflage pants, a brown dress shirt and a leather aviator jacket with a chest holster. Hawk's personality was that of a stern father figure, he knew when to administer discipline, and he was a person to go to if you're having problems.

"I'm sorry to call you off your leave, Sylia."

"What is the assignment, General?" Sylia asked absently brushing her hand through her hair.

"I want you to train and command a covert op team to...."

"You called me off my leave just to train a covert op team!" Sylia said in a raised and annoyed tone of voice, since she spent the last six months training recruits for Special Ops.

Despite Sylia's outburst, General Hawk remained absolutely calm. "I was just about to explain is that we need an elite unit to infiltrate Cobra installations to gather intell on anything that Cobra is cooking up or any rescue missions that would be consider too dangerous using the whole GI Joe team."

"I'll take the assignment without hesitation. But on one condition." Sylia told her superior, Hawk only nodded in agreement. "I choose who I want on my team. That means I want complete access to all Army records active or inactive."

"Why inactive records?" asked Hawk with an arch eyebrow

"There might be some who want to reactive their commissions. But I'm looking for specific qualities and talents." Sylia explained her reasoning, which the General couldn’t argue with. Then she became silent for few moments. Hawk noticed Sylia wanted to say something, but was unsure. Sylia was didn’t really know how to react to this, on the one hand, she was surprised to get her own command, but on the other hand, privately she did held doubts of her own command abilities after facing a military tribunal for her actions during a mission in Cambodia

"Is there anything else, Lt.?" Hawk asked with concern in his voice.

“Yes sir, I remember going before a military tribunal for my actions during a mission in Cambodia….”

Hawk interrupted before she could finish, “You were cleared of those charges, Sylia.”

“I know, sir. But the judgment of that tribunal was that I would not get another command position.”

“Sylia,” Hawk began in a soften voice, “You had no choice, and it was very difficult decision. You didn’t know one of your subordinates was mentally unbalanced, for what he did you had no choice but to shoot him. I’m willing to give you your own command again.”

With that, Sylia stood up and towards the door, “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly. When she does assemble her new team, it will be a standing order that her subordinates will follow the Rules of Engagement and the Articles of War to the letter or else; under any circumstances she will not have a repeat of Cambodia. This was a promise to herself. 

An hour or two later, in her quarters Sylia sat on the couch typing away at her laptop on the coffee table. Before she went to her quarters, she paid a visit to Mainframe for the necessary passwords for accessing Army personnel records at the Pentagon. Since space was at a premium on the base, she had to share her quarters with the Joes Lady J and Scarlett. Taking a break from her work, Sylia walked over to a small kitchenette to make herself a pot of coffee. Sifting through thousands of Pentagon records, Sylia came across three records that stood out. Files of Asagiri, Romanova and Yamazaki caught her attention, and these three might be the ones with the talents and qualities she was looking for. Next morning she filled out a requisition form to have those files sent to her, and then getting General Hawk's approval to approach these three individuals.

Late afternoon, Hawk and Lt. Stingray were going over the files she received from the Pentagon. After flipping through Yamazaki record, he placed it on the desk, and then proceeded to read Asagiri's. Sylia noticed that he had a look of uncertainty on his face. "Is there a problem on this one, General?"

"Hmm, according to her file, Asagiri is regarded as a loose cannon and possessing a vile temper." Hawk replied as he closed the file. "You are aware of this, aren't you Lt.?" Hawk asked with inquisitive expression

"I know, but she is a good combat soldier, sir. Her ability to use a machine gun can't be questioned. I feel, with the right motivation, she can be quite affective." Lt. Stingray replied simply, she had to deal problem troops before and Asagiri wasn't going to be any different.

"Okay Lt., this is your baby. You go get 'em." Hawk approved of her choices.

Standing to her feet, Sylia saluted General Hawk. "Thank you sir. General, I would like to request that Lift Ticket accompany me on this mission; it would be easier getting them out here. I rather not go through the hassle with commercial flights."

"Granted. Carry on soldier."

Standing at attention, Sylia saluted Hawk again, "Yes sir."


	2. Recruitment

Part II the Recruitment

"I Want You."  
Nene's recruitment message from Sylia

After arriving Chicago Air Guard base, Yamazaki was Sylia's number one priority. Since both Sylia and Lift Ticket were going be in Chicago for the day, she allowed the Tomahawk pilot to go see a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. Actually, she wouldn't mind seeing a ballgame, being avid fan of Baseball, on a personal level she would rather watch the Dodgers play ball. Of course, she thought it was a sad day for the Dodgers when Tommy Lasorda hung up his jersey. Unfortunately business before pleasure, she needed to find Yamazaki. Grabbing a cab, her first stop was to rent a car. At an Avis rentals, they gave 20% discount of rentals to all military personnel, after a half an hour of signing forms and paying for the rental using her American Express Platinum card, good thing the government will reimburse her for using her card for business purposes, she drove out in a 98 Ford Mustang convertible. Lt. Stingray thought Chicago was a nice city, and a good place find the best ribs; but it must be a bitch live in close proximity to the El for some of the resident. According to certain records she managed to obtain, Linna Yamazaki worked as aerobics instructor at a 24-hour fitness in the better part of Chicago. The gym was located at the ground floor of a corporate high-rise. Upon entering the building, she walked up to the front desk and rang the bell for service; despite being indoors, she didn't bother removing her wrap-around sunglasses or her beret.

"May I help you?" asked a very bubbly female employee. This person was thinner than rail, which was probably anorexic or worse bought into all that alternative health crap.

"Yes," Sylia responded very politely, "I'm looking for a Linna Yamazaki. I believe she is an employee at this gym." 

The skinny desk clerk answered, "Yes, she does work here, but she not here today."

"Do you know where I can find her?"

"Yes, she works part time as a martial arts instructor at a dojo, just a couple blocks away from Wrigley Field."

"May I have the address?" Sylia asked the clerk; in return, she wrote down the address, and then handed the white slip of paper to Lt. Stingray.

"Here you go Sgt.,” The clerk said politely.

"Ahem, I'm a Lt." Sylia corrected pointing to the gold Lt. bar on her collar. "Anyway thank you for your assistance." 

Back in her car, she pulled out a Thomas guide; she estimated from her current location it would take at least 45 minutes to get to Wrigley Field. About an hour later due to traffic, Sylia found the dojo she was looking for. Upon parking in the lot, Sylia entered the dojo; it wasn't too hard find the person in question. Yamazaki was in the back practicing with what appeared to be a sword, but it was too far for Sylia to tell. "Sgt. Linna Yamazaki?" Sylia asked after approaching her, Linna sharply spun facing Lt. Stingray pointing her sword towards the Lieutenant's throat. Sylia didn't even flinch.

"Never sneak up on me when I practicing!" Linna told the Lt. with an annoyed tone in her voice. Then Linna's face soften as she backed off, "I'm sorry Lt. I've been having a bad week,"

"Understandable," Sylia said with a small smile on her face, "You're reflexes are quite impressive. It would take a normal person 20 to 30 seconds to react, you've reacted in less than ten."

"Chalk it up to practice." Linna remarked while she took a quick study of Sylia in her dress greens, she could tell from the decorations, campaign ribbons, the silver wings of a senior parachutist and the beret that Sylia was in Special Ops, a Ranger. "I take it, the Army wants me back."

Sylia gave a nod, "Yes, but is there a place where we can talk discreetly?"

Linna thought for a moment before speaking, then came a small growling in her stomach, "I know a place. I don't know about you, but I sure can use a bite to eat. With the classes and practicing those protein bars fill you up for only so long."

A few minutes later in a nice restaurant, Linna and Sylia sat down for lunch; Sylia took noticed that the lunch crowd poured into the restaurant. During the course of their lunch the two-shared a period of silence, "Excuse me Linna, I have a question for you."

"Concerning?" Linna asked with uncertainty in her voice.

"That you refuse to use a gun. I know you're not a pacifist."

"For personal reasons," Linna replied with a small hint of anger in her narrowed eyes and her voice. “I think, that is all that needs to be said."

That was a very touchy subject for her and Sylia understood. Hell, the deaths of both her mother and father were sore spots for Sylia. But in Linna's case something more traumatizing must of happened to make her adamant against explaining her reasons of refusing to use a gun.

"Linna, I came to you since you are an excellent close quarters fighter. I need you for this assignment." stated Sylia as she pulled a manila envelope out of her briefcase then handed it to Linna. 

Opening the envelope with her nail, she read the orders and a smile appeared on her face. Placing the orders back into the envelope, she looked towards the Lt. "Lt., I resigned from the Army to pursue a dream as a professional dancer and hopefully go to Broadway. After losing that dance audition, I was pretty miserable. At least I have the military to fall back on. You want me, you got me."

When Linna walked off to use the restroom, Sylia pulled out a small notepad and a pen from her breast pocket of her jacket. In the notepad, Sylia had the names of the three people she was supposed to pick up. After getting Linna, she placed a check mark next to her name.

The two drove to Linna's apartment, allowing Linna to pack her duffel bag and change into her dress greens. Sgt. Yamazaki thanked herself that she had a roommate; because the Lt. told her that due to the considerable length of time that this tour of duty might take, Linna would have to put her possessions into storage.

At 2100 the Tomahawk took off from Chicago for Los Angeles to pick up Asagiri and Romanova. Sylia looked in the staging/storage area of the chopper to find Linna in her seat, asleep; in a way she envied her for that, because Sylia could never sleep on a moving vehicle. Opening her briefcase, she read Sgt. Asagiri's record. A lot of fireworks, mostly insubordination and fighting, Asagiri was not going to be a problem. During one of her training classes, she had to deal with a recruit who was a pain in the ass, she told him in a calm but threatening tone of voice, "look, you little bastard. Either you do as you're told or I beat your brains out. Understand?" Sylia never had the need to act on those threats, just the tone of her voice and the cold, dead look in her eyes was just enough for anyone to get the lead out. The Lt. never put up with any crap from anybody under her command.

The Tomahawk touched down at Los Angeles AFB around 0400 in the morning, Sylia decided to get a couple hours of sleep before going after Asagiri. At the BOQ (Bachelor Officers' Quarters) she procured herself a room as well as rooms for Yamazaki and Lift Ticket. Reaching her room, she dragged her dead body and her suitcase towards the bed, and fell flat on her face on it. She was so tired; she was unconscious within a minute, almost to the point where she could be declared legally dead.

At 0900, Sylia woke up, showered and got a fresh uniform on. First thing she had to do before she could have her first cup of coffee or even a decent breakfast was that she had to meet with the base commander. The base commander yelled at her for almost a half an hour for arriving at four in the morning without prior authorization or even clearance to land on the base in spite of the fact the Lt. showed him a small portion of her orders, everything else was on a need-to-know basis. The Colonel didn't buy it, and gave her a direct order to explain the true nature of her mission. Sylia's response to his berating was a way of telling him to shut up without putting it in those exact words by saying, "my orders come straight from Brigadier General Clayton Abernathy. If you have any concerns, take it up with him, sir." In other words since she only answers to General Hawk, Sylia did not have to recognize the Colonel's authority and did not have to tell him anything.

Once that ordeal was over with Sylia headed for the motor pool; surprisingly, Sylia was able to sign out a 2000 Mercedes from the motor pool. Usually luxury cars were reserved for Generals and other brass. Inferior grade officers and NCOs were usually stuck with worse hunk of junks on the road.

Now the first order of business was to get some coffee. Stopping at a nearby Starbucks, she purchased a large cup of regular coffee and the day's edition of the Los Angeles Times. Sitting down at a table, she allowed herself an opportunity to relax and collect her thoughts. As she began reading the front page, she reconsidered picking up Asagiri at this time, and decided to pick up Romanova. According to her information, Nene Romanova was officer for the LAPD working out of Parker Center in Los Angeles. Must be a pain in the ass to be LAPD officer since the Rampart scandal broke out. Especially for those who were never apart of that scandal, just trying to do a job and make living. 

Within 45 minutes, Sylia arrived at Parker Center despite that there were lot morons out on the 405 freeway. Idiots who figured it was a good idea for either to put on their make up, shave, or read the paper while driving. Then there are those who think they own the road. Sylia walked up the steps, entered the building. Approaching the desk sergeant, Sylia showed her ID card and requested to see Officer Nene Romanova. The lady desk sergeant told her that Romanova was working her shift out of homicide. Before walking off for Homicide division, she had to take a visitor badge. 

Entering into the offices of Homicide division, Lt. Stingray asked the nearest officer for the person in charge. In response, the officer pointed his thumb towards Inspector Leon McNichol's office. She had to at least let Nene's supervisors know that she had to speak to Officer Romanova. "So why do need to speak to Officer Romanova, Lt.?" Asked Inspector McNichol's. Leon would be considered a plain clothes cop, no uniform or a suit and tie. He was also a person that would get into trouble with the brass for his actions despite it might be for the right reasons.

"I'm not at liberty to say," replied Lt. Stingray to Leon's question.

"Well, she’s currently at the morgue, getting some details on a recent murder. She'll be back in 45 minutes."

"Thank you, can you have her meet me in the break room," Sylia asked as she stood up and shook Leon's hand, then walked out of his office.

Upon reaching the break room, Officer Nene Romanova felt rather nervous, she was given no details in any way about this Lt. who wanted to see her. Nearing the break room, she stopped to take a couple of deep breaths before entering. She walked in and approached the table the Lt. was sitting at "Officer---" Nene said as she saluted the Lt.

"Romanova, Nene. Rank: Specialist 4. Yes, I know. At ease, Officer," Sylia told her. Nene relaxed and took a seat.

"That's my old service record isn't it?" Nene said, when she noticed the open folder in Sylia's hands.

Sylia only nodded in response. "If you think you're in any trouble, don't worry, your record's spotless," Sylia told Nene. That put her mind at ease; she thought she was in trouble.

"I'm here since according to your record that you're a computer systems expert and a hacker par excellence. I would like to utilize your talents for a team I'm putting together,” explained Sylia as she slid the now familiar manila envelope across the table for Nene to pick up the envelope. After opening her orders, she looked it over carefully. "One thing I've noticed in your record is you have no previous combat experience. Something I'm willing to overlook, since I will be putting you and team mates through not only a refresher course in basic training but Special Ops training," Sylia stated with a brief pause, "I will also see in getting any additional training and proper field equipment for your Primary and Secondary MOS'."

Nene felt a little bit elated that the Lt. was willing to do that, if she decided to go back into the Army. "Lt., I'll take this assignment. Even before this whole Rampart scandal broke, I was shocked at the level disrespect I would get, just because I'm an officer of the LAPD. I'm only doing my job."

"I understand." Sylia simply stated as she stood up and straightened her coat. Nene also stood up. 

Nene's first order of business was that she went to her superiors to tender her resignation and turned in her badge and gun. Leaving Parker Center, the Lt. followed Nene who rode a scooter home. Which had Sylia wondering if that thing could survive the traffic on the 405; surprisingly it did. In about hour, the two arrive at her parent's home in Rancho Palos Verdes. "Mom! Dad!" Nene called as she entered the door, Sylia walked in after Nene. Out of pure manners, she remembered to remove her sunglasses and beret. Entering the living room, Nene saw her dad in an easy chair reading the paper. 

"Nene, you’re home from work early. I thought you didn't get off till six?" said Mr. Romanova, "Who's your friend?” he asked, looking at Lt. Stingray.

"Lt. Sylia Stingray, sir," Replied the Lt.

"Dad, where's Mom? I have something important tell you both." Nene said to her father, because it was something that would worry her mother.

After calling her mother's name, Nene's mom came from the kitchen. "What is it?" She asked in a rather cheerful voice.

"Mom, Dad, my commission has been reactivated I have to leave immediately. My CO, Lt. Stingray will take me over to Los Angeles AFB in El Segundo to take a military flight out to my new assignment."

The reactions of her parents were mixed, her father who was career army until her mother forced him to retire, was bursting with pride upon hearing that his daughter was going back into the service. Nene's mother on the other hand was almost in tears, worrying that Nene was going to get herself killed.

"Excuse me, while I pack and change." Nene said before leaving the room.

Getting up from his easy chair, Mr. Romanova walked up to Sylia. "Despite how my wife worries about Nene. I'm certain you'll look after Nene. I’ve served in the Army for a long time, and most of the officers I served under were mostly complete assholes. Only worrying about their careers rather the men under them. You look like an officer who looks after the troops," Mr. Romanova told Sylia.

"Mr. Romanova, you have my word that I'll look after Nene," promised the Lt.

Shortly after Sylia made her promise to Nene parents, Nene came down the stairs in her dress greens and carrying her duffel bag. "I'm ready Lt." Nene told her new CO. It was a long and tearful good-bye with Nene's mother, Nene kept reassuring her that she will be fine along with that she was an adult who was able to take care of herself. 

After getting back on the AFB, Sylia pulled up next to the curb at the BOQ, she met with Linna, asking her to allow Nene to stay in her room for a short while; just long enough for her to pick up Asagiri. Before getting back on the freeway, Sylia stopped to gas up her car and grab a bite to eat. Settling down to dine in an up-scale restaurant, Sylia hoped that the A placard from the health department was not just for show, ordered a typical soup and sandwich and a cup of coffee. As she dined, she studied Sgt. Asagiri record and some other information on her. According to the information she has with her, that Priss was a patron and sometime singer at a bar called 'Hot Legs' according to address, it was in a somewhat seedy part of town.

Arriving at Hot Legs, Sylia parked her car in the side. Glancing at her watch it was about 1945 hours. Exiting her car, she used the remote on her key chain to lock the doors and activate the car alarm. As she walked towards the sidewalk, a big slob of a man grabbed her right arm. "Hey, Lt. why we don't conduct war games, if you know what I mean." The slob offered her.

Pulling her arm from his grip, she wrapped her hand around his throat, and shoved him against the side of the building. "Don't ever touch me!" She warned her aggressor in a calm, but a cold voice and fixing a cold stare on him, putting the fear of god into him. One thing Sylia had a very short tolerance for was people who try sexually harass her.

Entering the smoke filled bar, Sylia made her to the bar an sat down Turning her head, the Lt. looked out of corner of her eye towards a stage, seeing a band performing with a blond woman singing. The singer looked just like Asagiri except she was not a blond.

"What would you like to drink, Lt.?" Asked the bartender

"What kind of beer do you have?" questioned the Lt. Despite she was on duty and she has been known to be very anal when it came to following regulations, but there was a need to fit into certain situation.

The bartender ran down the list of beer from memory, also telling her that the imported stuff will cost more and that she would be better off buying the domestic. Making up her mind on a beer, she found Heineken to be drinkable. Much like Duke, Sylia was a snob when it came to the consumption of alcohol. Though not a beer drinker, her feelings that American beer was just toilet water brewed with grain barley, not even worth the cans they’re sold in. Sylia took a sip of her beer and savored the rich, hoppy flavor, definitely worth the extra money.

Finishing her sets and changing out of her 'work' clothes, Priss sat down at the end of the bar and ordered a beer. Asagiri was your typical strong willed individual. A rebel. Asagiri was type of person who would join the Army just for thrill of combat, that adrenaline rush. With the type of outfit Lt. Stingray was going to try have Asagiri sign on with, is going to have all the combat she can handle

"Priss Asagiri?" asked the approaching Lt.

"Who the fuck are you?" Priss sharply retorted when she briefly looked at the Lt. before she continued to quietly drink her beer. Taking a quick examination of the Lt., Priss noticed that Sylia was wearing a class ring from West Point.

Lt. Stingray took a step back, not prepared for Priss' bitter response, but this did not detour her from leaving without Asagiri. She just let out a small chuckle and let her comment slide, for now. "Not the type of greeting I was looking for, but it will suffice. I'm Lt. Sylia Stingray, United States Army. I've come to you to offer a deal."

"A deal? Look Lt., I have had a real bad fucking day, and I'm in not the mood for this fucking bullshit!" Priss shot an angry look at the Lt. “So take your deal and hit the road!”

"Asagiri, how would you like to see some combat? Not this bullshit reserve status where you’re basically useless or this nation building crap. I’m talking about using your expertise with a machine gun to your full capability." The Lt. laid it all out for her. Actually this perked some of Priss' interest and Sylia took the envelope from her briefcase and handed the singer’s her orders. "If you agree to reactivate your commission, I would see to it that your service record is cleaned up."

"I have one question, Lt., who's the ram-rod of this team of yours?"

"I am."

"You," Priss said nearly started laughing, "You're an officer and a West Pointer, you're job is probably mostly behind a desk."

"Asagiri,” Sylia started off after taking a sip from her beer, "granted, I'm an officer and I've graduated from West Point. But I can never picture myself as a desk jockey, I'm in the trenches with rest of the grunts." Then the Lt.'s voice became ice cold, "Asagiri, I'm going to lay this out nice and simple for you; if you screw up just once, I'll have you bounce out of the outfit so fast, that your feet won't even touch the ground. It's much nicer than what would happened to one of my trainees who didn't keep up with my style of training, he would be shipped home in a box with a flag over it!” 

Priss looked at the Lt. then burst into laughter, "Lt., you're all right. You may be an officer, but you got balls," Priss gave the Lt. a slapped on the side of her arm. Sylia rolled her eyes, she didn't even how respond to that.

A loud disturbance at the entrance of Hot Legs made Sylia turned her head and noticed several bikers entered the bar. "I see society's garbage just entered the bar," Sylia said to Priss.

The bikers made their way to where Lt. Stingray and Priss were sitting. One of Bikers approached Sylia, he was a big man draped in leather, who looked like he was drunk or stoned already. "Hey sweetheart! Off of my barstool," The biker said to the Lt.

"Oh, is your name on this barstool, assuming the fact that you know how to write," Sylia retorted, Priss tried to stifle her laugher at the Lt.’s cutting remark.

"Are you saying I'm stupid, toots?" replied the angry biker.

"No, there is a clear difference between being illiterate and stupidity. It has become rather clear that you're stupid, since you don't know how speak properly to a lady," Sylia told the biker.

The biker losing his temper grabbed Sylia by the shoulder catching her off guard; shoved her off the barstool and crashing into Priss. "Lt., would you like me to take out the garbage?" Offered Priss, who was on the floor and with the Lt. lying right on top of Priss. 

"No, I'll take care of this," Sylia picked herself off the floor and tapped her attacker on the shoulder. "I bet your mother didn't teach you how to treat a lady or the value of not to fuck around with a Ranger!" Sylia wasn’t the type who would normally lose her temper or resort to using her fists, but she has been known to defend herself when provoked into a fight. If someone did get Sylia on her bad side, they would regret the day they were born.

The biker rose from the stool and gave toothy menacing grin, "Okay babe, ya' wanna get trashed again?" Putting up his fists, the biker felt he could take out Sylia without breaking a sweat.

Priss leaned against the bar; this was something she did not want to miss. Let’s see, this Lt. Stingray is a Ranger; trained in most forms of combat, able to kill someone without a weapon or even breaking a sweat and the pea-brain son of a bitch she’s against is a typical barroom brawler. Man, is he screwed! Maybe Lt. Stingray can’t be all bad… even for an officer, Priss thought to herself as a small sly grin came to her face. “Hey jerk! I’ll put the paramedics on stand-by for ya! You’re gonna need ‘em!” said a taunting Priss to Sylia’s opponent 

Sylia only smiled. The strike was so quick, the biker had no chance to prepare for her attack or even dodge the blow. Sylia popped him one in the stomach that had him double over, and then socked him in the face, which sent him up and over backwards. The biker hit the bar floor and was out.

The Biker, meanwhile, responded to Sylia’s blows by bleeding from his nose to the barroom floor. Sylia figured that her opponent wouldn’t be getting up for a while, seeing how he hit the floor rather hard. Picking up a napkin from the bar, Sylia wiped the blood off her hand. The puddle of blood next to the biker grew steadily larger.

Sylia straightened her tie and coat; then she reached down to pick up her beret off the floor. She placed the beret back on her head and then grabbed her briefcase from the bar. Pulling out a twenty from her wallet, she paid for her beer and Asagiri's before leaving. The Lt. knew it was wiser to get the hell out of there before LAPD showed up. Or else it was going to be very difficult to explain to General Hawk how she ended up in jail. There was also the fact she was not particularly fond of wearing handcuffs. The only amusing thought for her was if she did get arrested maybe the cops would have put her in the OJ Simpson suite. But spending a night in jail with the criminal element of Los Angeles and individuals who were better off locked up in the nut house was not her idea of the capper to a perfect evening.

Walking out of the bar, Sylia joined Asagiri who waited outside for her with a big grin on her face. “What’s with the grin, Sgt.?” Sylia asked pointing her finger to Priss’ mouth. 

“Just that I have never seen an officer in a barroom brawl. Also that bastard is gonna be breathin’ through his mouth for the next couple of weeks,” Priss said as the two walked out onto the parking lot.

“I don’t get angry very often, Asagiri, but I don’t put up with a lot shit for very long either,” Sylia replied coolly.

“I like you Lt., Count me in.”

The Lt. told Priss to report at Los Angeles AFB in her dress greens and that they'll be leaving tonight, neither Asagiri, Yamazaki nor Romanova knew where they're being assigned since that was classified information.

Sylia had a clear idea of what kind training schedule and how she was going to conduct it. Making notes on her small notepad, starting off with basic training and lectures dealing with a refresher course on the rules of engagement and also lectures on combat stress and how to deal with it; towards the end of their training will be from learning how to jump with a parachute, to jungle, desert, mountain, and urban operations. Then their final test will be in survival training. Lt. Stingray never considered herself to be a teacher, but an experienced officer. Since she conducted missions in the Middle East, Southeast Asia. Just about in every hotspot.


	3. Training

Part III: Training

"In about 15 minutes, we're going to turn all those boys into fanatic. Razors! They'll lose their fear of Germans. Hope to god they don't lose their fear of me."  
George S. Patton (George C. Scott) To Omar Bradley (Karl Malden) "Patton"

 

Returning to base around 0600, Sylia first had to take her three recruits to meet with General Hawk. As Sylia was the first to walk into his office, he noticed that she didn't have a chance to get some sleep. "Lt. Sylia Stingray reporting in, sir," Sylia said when she saluted Hawk. With a yawn coming, Sylia covered her mouth and tried to stifle it.

"Sgt. Asagiri, sir,"

"Sgt Yamazaki, sir."

"Specialist Romanova, sir"

Hawk stood up and returned their salutes before sitting down. “I want welcome you three to the GI Joe team, an elite anti terrorism unit. We are assigned to deal with terrorism anywhere in the world, from the nuts on the home front to Cobra. Lt. Stingray will brief you on anything further.” Hawk told the three gesturing towards Sylia. “If you want you can help yourselves to some coffee. I want to review each of your files, tie up any loose ends.” Hawk concluded, also making a hand gesture towards the coffee maker with a tray of mugs on a cabinet across from his desk.

Sylia walked over and snagged herself a cup of joe. Coffee to her was an important part of her daily life, it was only thing that made getting up in the morning worth while; seeing how Sylia not much of a morning person without her first cup of coffee. After pouring herself a cup, she sat down and savored a sip of the black liquid known as coffee. That boost of energy provided by the caffeine was just what she needed, instead of falling asleep in front of General Hawk.

Opening the first of the three folders containing their disciplinary records on his desk, both Romanova and Yamazaki’s records were clean, and then Hawk had to open up Asagiri’s record.

“Sgt. Asagiri,” Hawk called out, “According to your record, while on leave you were arrested for getting into a drunken brawl with a civilian in a Los Angeles bar.”

Priss gave a smile, “Well, we were having a deep political discussion over a few beers, and things got a little out of hand when we tried to settle our political differences.”

“A little out of hand,” Hawk responded in a very dry tone, “Shall we discuss the body count, Sgt.? According to this report, the LAPD nearly called out the SWAT Team on the account of you.” Hawk still possessed his stone face demeanor as he watched Priss trying to hold in her laughter. Turning the page in her file, Hawk then read another report of Priss’ exploits. “And according to your file some of your basic training was conducted at Camp Pendleton. During your stay, there were more Marines in the hospital than on base. Care to explain?”

“So I knocked a few jarheads on their asses,”

“According to the base commander, the casualties on base made the landings on Okinawa and Iwo Jima look like a day at the beach.” Shaking his head, he rose to his feet, “Colorful soldiers, I must say. But that is one thing I don’t need. I would greatly appreciate that for the next 18 months you keep your noses clean. Dismissed.” Concluded Hawk.

“Yes sir,” the three said in unison.

“Lt. I want to speak to you for a moment.”

Turning to her three trainees, Sylia told them to wait outside for her. Closing the door behind her, Sylia looked to General Hawk who had a look of uncertainty on his face. “I take it you weren’t impressed with them?” Sylia asked

Hawk just shook his head, “No it’s not that Sylia. It’s that Romanova has never been in a firefight; absolutely no combat experience whatsoever,” stated Hawk as he closed Romanova’s file before turning to Asagiri’s, “Then there’s Asagiri, her expertise may not be questioned, but according to her file, she is not considered a team player, but more of a lone wolf at times.” Hawk concluded, while leaning back in his chair.

“Still there are a few side notes in her file that do state the contrary,” said Sylia as she got up to refill her coffee cup, “Despite her hot temper, she was highly respected in the 101st Airborne, because she would always volunteer to be the person on point.” Sylia paused to take a sip from her coffee before continuing, “That and the fact, that during a mission in Kosovo, she had a friend that was wounded by a sniper. Between Priss and her friend was a minefield. She risked her life by running through those mines, then back through the minefield carrying her friend to battalion aid and saving her life. For that act of heroism, she was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.” Sylia briefly paused before resuming, “In my best opinion, sir, Priss’ good qualities like her loyalty and courage outweighs the negative. In time she will be an effective member of the GI Joe team.”

“What about Romanova, Sylia? You already know we have Mainframe as our computer specialist, also, Dial Tone and Breaker for communications. She must be good at what she does in order to perk your interest.”

Sylia took at a long sip from her coffee, and then thought about Hawk’s comment. “Well, I didn’t mention this in the interview I had with her in Los Angeles, but during her two year tour of duty, she worked as a computer specialist out of the Department of the Army at the Pentagon. Also according to her file she worked directly under the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Secretary of the Army from time to time. Plus, she might have a few contacts, in case we need to bypass normal channels.”

“Clearance level?” Hawk flatly asked.

“Top secret or better, but I’ll need to check to see if her security clearance is still valid,” The Lt. Replied, Nene’s clearance will be something for Sylia to look into.

“Oh, Lt. Before you get your trainees their billets, I just want a brief overview of the training schedule you have planned. Then when those three have their billets, I want you get some sleep, Sylia you look awful,” Hawk laughed, he was noticing that despite the coffee she had consumed, Sylia was fighting a battle against her own fatigue.

As Sylia and Hawk were discussing over her new unit, Linna, Priss and Nene waited outside his office. Reaching into her breast pocket of her uniform, Priss pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Placing a cigarette in her mouth, she lit it. Priss savored the long, slow drag from her cigarette, and then exhaled a cloud of smoke from her mouth and nose. A feeling of peace came to her, as if all her troubles just floated away on a cloud of nicotine. “Oh, thank god for cigarettes,” Priss sighed before taking another puff from her Lucky Strike cigarette. To Priss, a cigarette was one of the two things that even made getting up in morning bearable; the other was a pot of strong, black coffee and Priss preferred her coffee to be not only strong enough to take the varnish off a table, but eat a hole through it.

Linna wrinkled her nose after smelling the foul odor coming from Priss’ smoking. Linna could never understand why people would put such harmful substances in their bodies like tobacco and alcohol. To her, it just destroys the body over time. Thinking about asking Priss about her smoking, Linna considered it was none of her business and began reading a paperback novel.

Looking from the corner of her eye, Priss took a glance at the computer magazine Nene was reading. “Hey, Romanova! What the hell are you reading, Geeks Quarterly?”

“No, just the latest issue Wired,” Nene responded without taking her eyes off her magazine. “Do you have a problem with that, Sarge?”

Before Priss could respond Sylia walked out of General Hawk’s office, “Okay ladies, grab your gear and follow me. I’ll take you to your billets.” Sylia stated. Grabbing their duffel bags, Priss, Linna and Nene followed the Lt.. Without even turning around, Lt. Stingray spoke to Priss, “Sgt. Asagiri, kindly dispose of that cigarette in your mouth please.” Priss removed the cigarette from her mouth and stamped it out in a nearby ashtray however, not willingly since she was not finished getting her nicotine fix. Exiting the administration building, Sylia and her group walked passed Beachhead as he was walking in; turning around he thought he recognized Sgt. Asagiri, Nah! There is no way in hell they could let her back in the military, though Beachhead as he shook the idea from his mind.

Entering the barracks, Sylia wanted to get her trainees their billets, and then she could get some sleep. Linna nearly stopped dead her tracks, when she got her first look at Duke. Oh my god! Tall, blond and handsome. What a good looking guy! 

“Morning, Lt.,” Duke greeted his superior

“Duke, allow me to introduced three new transfers, Sgt. Asagiri, Sgt. Yamazaki, and Specialist Romanova.”

“Hello, Ladies,”

“If you’re not busy, how about having coffee with me later,” Linna offered, to her he seems to be a very nice guy.

Blushing at her upfront offer, Duke had images of Scarlett when she is mad. God help him, if he fell victim to her Irish temper. “Thank you for your kind offer, Sgt. but perhaps another time.”

“Linna, he already spoken for, his girlfriend is my roommate.”

After getting Linna and Nene settled in the quarters they’ll have to share. Sylia knocked on a door. Door opened revealing the Joes resident female tank jockey, Covergirl, all she was wearing was a Chicago Cubs jersey, and the door covered the rest of her. “Lt? I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone at this time.”

“It quite all right, since you have an extra room, would you mind if Sgt. Asagiri bunked with you?” 

Covergirl thought about it; personally she enjoyed some of the privacy afforded to her. “Yeah, she could stay here.”

“Excellent, I would like to stay around for the get-to-know-each-other bit, but I need to get some sleep.”

Priss walked in with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder and Covergirl showed her to an empty room. Placing her duffel on the bed, Priss opened it and pull out a 6 pack of beer. “Hey, Covergirl, ya’ got place where put this beer on ice?”

“Yeah, I got a mini fridge in the kitchenette.”

“Cool,” Priss walked over to the kitchenette and placed the beer into the mini-fridge. As Priss stored her beer, Covergirl warned her that Hawk doesn’t care for a lot drinking on base.

Priss looked around Covergirl’s quarters, even though she was a former fashion model, she and Priss held similar interest; Covergirl had a rather good collection of hard rock and some decent heavy metal, also Covergirl had a budding interest in motorcycles. “Do you mind if I put on some music?” Priss asked.

“Go ahead.”

Priss placed a couple of CDs into player. One was music she did in LA, another was a CD done by J-pop artist Two-Mix.

Sylia entered her quarters, just as Lady J was fixing herself a cup of coffee. “Hey, Sylia,” she greeted until she got a look at her roommate, “Geez, for a person who just came back from leave, you look like crap, Sylia.”

“How nice for you to point that out,” Sylia shot back heading for her room. After entering her room, she came out to put a sign on her door. The sign read “Do not Disturb, unless absolutely necessary. All violators will be killed on sight.”

After removing her uniform, Sylia climbed into bed and went to sleep. 

At 0700 the Joe team assembled on the exercise field for the morning PT session, which Beachhead was in charge of. Asagiri, Romanova and Yamazaki showed up as Beachhead took roll.

Finishing up the roll call, he looked at three new arrivals; that were not on his roll sheet. Walking up to the three ladies, “Excuse me, are you three just assigned here, I don’t have of you my roster here.”

“Yes, we were just assigned here this morning,” replied Linna

“Your names,” Beachhead asked with his pencil ready to write

“Sgt. Yamazaki,”

“Specialist Romanova,”

“Sgt. Asagiri”

Beachhead wrote down each of their names, until he came across Priss’ last name; he stopped looked at her, then clipboard, then her again. He was hoping he misheard her. “Are you Sgt. Priss Asagiri?” He asked dreading the possible response.

“How are you Beachhead? Still spending your money on deodorant, I see,” Priss retorted sarcastically, due to the fact that Beachhead was notorious for his refusal to use deodorant. Snickers and stifled laughter were heard as the interplay between Priss and Beachhead began to fold out.

“Who let a poor excuse for a solider like you back in?”

“You’ll have take that up with the Lt. Oh, Beachhead, its been a while, have you gotten over your problem?”

“What problem?” He asked with uncertainty

“Sleeping with a teddy bear and sucking your thumb. I remember you instructing when I was going through jump school at Benning, soon as the lights were out, you literally inhaled your thumb like a vacuum,” Priss explained with delight, watching Beachhead squirm.

Under his ski mask, Beachhead’s face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment. “Now what the hell was the name of your teddy bear?” Priss asked, then it came to her, snapping her fingers, “Oh now I remember, wasn’t it Sgt. Snuffles?”

A chorus of laughter broke out at the expense of Beachhead. He lowered his brow and shot daggers towards Priss. “Now you to listen me, you fuckin’ maggot. I don’t know why you decided to re-enlist, but fuck with me and I’ll make you’re life a living hell!”

“Beachhead, if I’m a maggot; then how come I’m not the one who smell like I’ve been living in the garbage dump? Also you can make anyone’s life a living hell, just by standing next to them with your BO.” Priss shot back.

“Everyone will commence the mile PT run,” Beachhead stated through clenched teeth, trying to keep his anger in check. I’m not through with you Asagiri.

Beachhead watched each Joe finish the mile PT run, and then saw Nene come in dead last. She was completely tired, coming to a stop, bending over with her hands on her thighs. Her face was red and she was out breath from that run.

Beachhead just shook his head as he walked towards Nene. "Aw, what's the matter, Romanova? That little run made you tired?" Beachhead asked with mock sympathy.

Nene only nodded while she tried to catch her breath

Then Beachhead got nasty, "Well, look at the others, they didn't get tired from this run. You're a lazy, out of shape piece of shit!"

"But---" Nene tried to interject. Not even expecting Beachhead’s remark, it was almost as if Beachhead just walked up to her and punched her right in the face.

"Shut your fuckin’ mouth when a superior is talking to you, Romanova! I don't know what is happening to this man's army, when a weakling like you is allowed in this outfit!" berated Beachhead.

"But---," On the verge of tears, Nene tried to interject once again. Someone getting right in her face and just verbally tear her down was something Nene was just not use to. Not even her parents were as harsh as Beachhead was at the moment. Nene tried hard to force back the tears in her eyes, but all she could do was stand there take Beachhead’s yelling and his comments on how worthless she is.

"I said shut your fuckin’ mouth when I’m talking to you!" Beachhead saw that Nene was about to start crying due to his vicious verbal assault on her. "Oh, you're goin' start crying now aren't ya'? Why don't you grow up for Christ’s sake, you goddamn crybaby! And I hope you didn't unpack, because I goin' make sure you ain't staying here long! Weaklings like you make me sick!" Beachhead finished before storming off. Then Nene slowly walked the way back to the quarters she and Linna shared with her head hanging low. 

Once in her bedroom, Nene made her way to her bed. Lying down on the bed, she buried her face to the pillow, breaking down crying. Beachhead’s comments of her were ringing through her head, repeating that she was a lazy, out of shape, piece of shit. Maybe it would be for the best that she just informed both Lt. Stingray and General Hawk that she was resigning than rather be put through hell by Beachhead. Getting off the bed, Nene knelt down to pull out her duffel bag from under the bag. With duffel bag in hand she headed over for the dresser across the room and began packing; fresh tears streamed from her eyes knowing that her father was going to be very disappointed that she quit the service, after seeing how proud he was that she reactivated her commission.

Suddenly a small rapping came to her bedroom door, “Y…y…yes,” stammered Nene as continued to pack. 

Linna opened the door, “Nene, would you like to hit the rec facilities with me?” Linna cheerfully asked, but her cheerfulness changed to concern when she took notice that Nene had been crying. “Is there something wrong, Nene?” asked Linna, even though she hasn’t known Nene very well, but something was troubling the young redhead and she needed a friend with a shoulder to cry on right now. Both sitting on the bed, Nene recounted her altercation with Beachhead including all the harsh comments he made about her. As she listened, Linna came to the opinion that Beachhead was way out of line, no one deserved to be treated like that not just Nene. 

“Linna, I’m planning to go home,” Nene said with sadness in her voice and her eyes, “Maybe Beachhead was right, maybe I am a lazy, out of shape, piece of shit, crybaby?”

Linna sharply turned her head to Nene, “Nene do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know,” Nene, replied with some uncertainty, “All I know is I never passed basic training, the Army kept me for my computer skills. The unit Lt. Stingray is putting together is more for combat, I’ll just be a hindrance.” With that Nene went back to packing her duffel bag.

As for Linna, she walked out of Nene’s room into the living area. Picking up the phone on a stand next to the couch, she dialed Lt. Stingray’s room. In Lt. Stingray’s room, Sylia was near dead to the world until her phone began ringing; abruptly waking her up from her peaceful slumber, Sylia turned on her right side and used her left hand to find the phone. “This is one of those times I wish I had a big and very heavy hammer!” Sylia growled as she picked up the phone. “Stingray here, and this better be important!” Sylia listened intently for a few minutes, “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” After hanging up the phone, she got out of bed, walked over to her closet and pulled out a pair of fatigues and her boots. As she got dress, she thought about her call from Linna; what puzzled her is why Nene would quit so soon after she reactivated her commission. She ran a mental list of probable suspects, she could rule out General Hawk, Duke and Flint, since they wouldn’t transfer her out without good reason. She could also rule out Shipwreck; he’s harmless, even though he’s somewhat of lecherous sailor; she remembered when he did try to hit on her once, but with the promise of having him take in all his meals through a straw killed any further attempts. Something was nagging at her that whole the situation reeked of Beachhead. That goddamn pain in the ass, stupid son of a bitch! Sylia swore to herself; to her Beachhead was so GI that he would even polish his socks for inspection; Sylia was not really fond of Beachhead anyway because he has the nasty habit of overstepping his bounds, and tends get on her nerves when he goes on one of his tangents “about if he was in charge.” If I find out that Beachhead’s responsible for Nene quitting, I will take him behind the motor pool and let the air out of his tires.

10 minutes passed, Sylia arrived at Linna and Nene’s quarters. Linna explained most of the situation to the Lt. 

In her bedroom Nene was sitting at a small writing desk composing her resignation, tears falling from her face and onto the paper she was writing on. Another flood of tears came to her as Beachhead was still on her mind. A sudden rapping at the door broke Nene from her recent outbreak of crying. “Come in,” Nene sobbed.

Opening the door, Lt. Stingray walked in; “Lt.” Nene spat out as she tried hastily to regain some form of composure in the presence of her Commanding Officer and gave her a weak salute.

Sylia only gave Nene a warm smile, “At ease, Nene. Let’s sit down and talk.” Nene walked over to the bed and sat down followed by Lt. Stingray. “What happen? Why are you quitting?” Sylia asked as she placed her hand on the redhead’s shoulder. Nene looked right into Sylia’s eyes, seeing those eyes were full of compassion.

“Well, because of that guy Priss called Beachhead,” sighed Nene, running her hand through her hair. A sinking feeling came to Sylia’s stomach when Nene confirmed her suspicions of the incident in question. That’s it! Beachhead and I are going to have a little chat! Sylia thought to herself. Recounting the incident with Beachhead to Lt. Stingray, Nene told her that it felt like she went through hell when he got in her face. 

“Nene, don’t worry, I’ll take care of Beachhead,” Sylia stated with almost a tone of sympathy in her voice as she started to open the door.

“Sylia?”

“Yes?”

Nene didn’t know how to phrase her words, so she was better off saying it, “Thank you, and why? Why are you so willing to help?”

Sylia thought about the question for a minute, and then smiled at the young NCO, “Well, despite Beachhead is part of the command staff, but now and then he needs a refresher course of not overstepping his boundaries. Also,” Sylia paused, “I’ve been in the same situation as you, so I know what it’s like,”

Sitting on the bed again, Sylia told Nene incident in her life. After graduation from West Point, Sylia had her choice of any type of duty in the Army. Rather than confined to a desk job, Sylia transferred to Fort Benning to become a Ranger. Being fresh out of academy, she was still relativity inexperienced. During a training exercise, her M-16 malfunctioned and accidentally discharge several shots. Even though it was not her fault, her DI got her face and gave her a very harsh chewing out, even going as far as by saying ‘how did a stupid West Point bitch like you get got assigned here anyway?!’ Unlike Nene, Sylia was not going to quit; failure was not going to be an option for her. The incident with her DI only made her more determined to succeed in becoming a Ranger.

Within a half an hour, Sylia sat in her office, calmly at her desk. With her arms folded across her chest and a very severe look on her face, she waited for Beachhead. It has been ten minutes since she told Breaker to page that idiot to report to her office ASAP. Not only did he tear into Romanova, but also the Lt. heard from a third party that Beachhead and Priss had a bout of verbal sparring, which was suppose to be rather amusing or so she heard. Right now Sylia was not in a jovial or a generous mood, her mood would be described as that the day was one never-ending headache. Upon entering the Lt.’s office with a clipboard under his left arm, Beachhead saluted Lt. Stingray. Sylia did not return his salute, right now she was in the mood for this military formality bullshit and told the ski masked Sgt to sit down. Ah! GI Jerk has arrived. Sylia thought sarcastically. How can anyone stand wearing a ski mask 24/7? Another thought that passed through her mind, right now that was irrelevant.

“Lt,” Beachhead spoke up, “I glad you called to see me, I want you look these forms over before I hand ‘em into General Hawk,” Beachhead concluded as he handed Sylia the clipboard.

Reaching over her desk she took the clipboard from his hand. Quickly skimming over the forms, they were transfer orders for both Sgt. Asagiri and SP-4 Romanova. He explained that the two would be better suited somewhere than their current assignments. Removing the orders from the clipboard, she took the forms and placed them in the shredder next to her desk. While the shredder worked it’s ‘magic,’ Sylia leaned over on the desk, giving Beachhead a smile that lacked any warmth or humor, “Request denied. Have a nice day.”

“Lt, I think you fail to realize that both Asagiri and Romanova are unfit to serve in the United States Army or any other branch of the armed forces.” Beachhead said, but he failed to notice, the smile on Sylia’s face growing very brittle, her eyes narrowing, and her knuckles turning white as she tightened the grip around her pencil. “So, Lt. it would be in your best interest to approve these orders and save yourself some unneeded embarrassment.” He concluded and Sylia broke the pencil in her hand.

“Beachhead, do me a favor and shut up!” Finally losing the last shred of patience she had left, Sylia’s temper flared up. Even though she rarely lost her temper, but when her fuse was lit, most people would know to get the hell out of her way before she blew. However, Beachhead found himself in the direct line of fire. “Now you listen to me, you pain in the ass! First, you will lay off of both Asagiri and Romanova they’re my responsibility, and that’s a direct order! Secondly, I will not my judgment questioned by an insubordinate, three-striped son of a bitch, like you. If you even think of stepping out of line, I’ll put your butt in a sling!”

“Lt…” Beachhead began, before the Lt. sharply cut him off.

“You are dismissed Beachhead.”

Beachhead tried to voice his argument again, but as far as Sylia was concerned the matter was close to any further discussion. “I said, that you are dismissed!” Sylia barked, raising her voice, so Beachhead would get the message or else he would be spending the rest of his military career with a potato peeler.

Grudgingly Beachhead forced himself to salute the Lt.. Sylia did not respond; she just wanted him to get out of her office. God! I hate that bitch! Beachhead thought to himself as he stormed out of her office and slammed the door on the way out. With Beachhead gone, Sylia allowed herself to breath a sigh of relief. That man can be most tiresome at times, thought Sylia as she rubbed her temples, hoping she was not getting a migraine from this. Opening the bottom right-hand drawer of her desk, the Lt. pulled out a bottle of scotch, a shot glass, a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter. Dealing with Beachhead proved to be a daunting task for the Lt. but trying to keep herself from killing him took great restraint. Sylia could only speculate why Beachhead could be such an asshole, probably the underlying reasons were either she was a woman who was a senior officer or that if you’ve either you went to West Point or you’re officer, sometimes both; that you don’t know jack about the grunts, or god knows what.

Pouring into the shot glass, and then lighting a cigarette, Sylia propped her feet on her desk and leaned back in her leather high-backed chair. Even though what is said about alcohol and nicotine not being a solution to one’s problems. But sometimes a good stiff belt, in moderation of course, allowed her to relax; and regain some patience. Personally, she would have loved just to deck Beachhead, having to put up with all his crap, his unnecessary questioning of her judgment, his incessant tangents; just his attitude towards her entirely. Enough about Beachhead, I need take my mind off of that moron. Sylia thought to herself, as looked at the calendar on the desktop and a very sinister smile came to her face upon discovery of what day it was. It was Friday, poker night, or as some the Joes came to call it the Friday Night Massacre. Being whenever Sylia played poker, she always seems to manage to walk away from the table with the paychecks of the other players, and the fact that the Lt. has got one hell of a poker face.

Unfortunately business before pleasure, and she has more important matters to attend to, before Sylia could take some people to the financial cleaners in a poker game. Top priority at this time was to begin training her three trainees through a series of lectures and “hands on” training. A lecture on familiarizing with the enemy would be a nice icebreaker, which meant she better create a Power point presentation about Cobra, Hydra, ULTIMATUM, the Watchdogs and AIM (Advanced Ideas and Mechanics).

In her quarters, Nene busily unpacked her duffel bag; that talk with Lt. Stingray made feel her a little bit better. This taught her not let Beachhead get to her, and let the Lt. have his ass. Reaching into the olive green bag, she pulled out a very cherished possession, a teddy bear. It was something very special to her; her mother gave it to her when she was very young. Even to this day she still she still sleeps with it. In a way to her, it gave her some comfort when she slept, it also reminded her of the simpler days of her childhood.

Around 1500 hours, Priss, Linna and Nene walked into briefing room A in the Administration Building, at the conference table, Sylia finished hooking up her laptop to A/V projector, for a Power Point presentation about the enemy, Hopefully this presentation will remind or teach them of the quote from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, “know your enemy better than they know themselves.” Sylia thought while she checked the A/V connection between the projector and her laptop. Lastly, she checked the battery levels of her wireless optical mouse. “Ah, good afternoon, Ladies. Since you now have arrived, we can begin our lecture,” smiled Sylia as she faced her trainees, “Please take your seats, and we shall begin.”

“God, I feel like I’m in fuckin’ high school! All this lecture shit! Hey, Lt! When do we break out the guns?!” Priss complained, the atmosphere the Lt. created, reminded Sgt. Asagiri of days she does not want to relive, high school.

“All in good time, Sgt. They say ‘patience is a virtue,’ learn it before you tax mine.”

Instead of responding to the Lt., Priss sunk into her chair, mumbling something under her breath.

“Well, since there are no further objections, let’s begin shall we?” Sylia looked at her three trainees; there were no further objections. “I feel, that I should set some standing orders for this unit. If you’ll direct your attention to the screen in front of you.” With the click of her mouse, a list of orders appeared on the screen.

Standing Orders  
\-------1. Do not divulge any information about the unit off-base  
\-------2. Do not act on a personal grudge or vendetta  
\-------3. No ops will be conducted without receiving any orders  
\-------4. Members will be held personally responsible to any and all unnecessary damage to equipment, unless unavoidable.  
\-------5. Do not gather intelligence on your own.  
\-------6. The policy on fraternization will be strictly enforced  
\-------7. The Rules of Engagement and the Articles of War will be strictly enforced or else.  
\-------8. The penalty for violating any of the above regulations are the following punishments depending on the severity of the violations:  
\-----------1. Personal and/or official reprimand   
\-----------2. Confinement to quarters or the stockade  
\-----------3. Put on guard, latrine or KP duty  
\-----------4. Reduction in rank and pay  
\-----------5. Court martial and dishonorable discharge  
\-----------6. Personally being shot by the CO (In extreme cases only) 

“Any questions? Yes, Sgt. Yamazaki,”

“Lt. what’s the big deal about rule six?”

Leaning back in her chair, the Lt. didn’t really need to think about Linna’s question. “Sgt. if you decide to pursue a personal relationship with someone, that’s your business. But I will step in if it has a negative impact on your duty.” Even though she didn’t care if her subordinates do pursue relationships, but she does not want them to take unnecessary risks for that individual or participate in an act better left unsaid even if said act was consensual between both parties, if she found out; but she will not pry into someone else affairs. “Any other questions?”

“There is one thing, I cannot stress enough is, never lie to me,” Sylia said in a very clear tone. “If it was something minor, I might go easy. But if you lie to me on a incident that may have severe, lasting repercussions on you, me or the entire GI Joe team as a whole,” The Lt. stated before her tone turned ice cold, “Then may god have mercy on your soul, because I won’t, neither will General Hawk.”

“Or only lie when you know you can get away with it,”

“Shut up, Asagiri!”

As Sylia began her presentation about the enemy, Dial Tone’s voice came over the PA system, “Lt. Stingray, please report to General Hawk’s office ASAP. Lt. Stingray, please report to General Hawk’s office ASAP.”

A puzzled expression came across her face, wondering what General Hawk wants. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Sylia told her three trainees before leaving the room. Sylia did not have a clue on the General wanted to see her for, she could only make assumptions at this time.

Minutes later Sylia walked into Hawk’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Asked the Lt. General Hawk was looking at a document just as the Lt. walked in.

Pulling his eyes away from the document in his hands, he looked at the young Lt. in front of him. “Yes. Beachhead filed a written complaint against you.”

Sylia rolled her eyes, she didn’t find too surprising after the fact that she chewed his ass out earlier in the day. That son of a bitch, she thought as she rubbed her eyes. “I take it this was in protest to both Asagiri and Romanova’s arrival on the base.”

Hawk nodded in response. “It’s not like Beachhead to submit things in writing, usually he will voice his complaint. But according to this document, he was disturbed by Asagiri and Romanova’s presence on the base.”

“Can I be blunt on this, sir?”

“Always, Sylia.”

“I don’t choose people on the basis of how GI they can be, I choose them on their abilities. Personally, General, I don’t give a damn about what Beachhead thinks on my decision about Asagiri or Romanova,” Sylia said with conviction. Hawk knew by the look on Sylia’s face that this was a fight she was not going to back down from, and he had no doubts about her abilities as an instructor. He has known Sylia since she was a cadet at West Point; it was public knowledge that they were friends.

“Sylia, I’ll allow Asagiri and Romanova to remain under your responsibility. I hope you can train them.”

“Clayton, Romanova is a rookie and will need a couple of lessons from the School of Hard Knocks. Asagiri is another story, she’s already an experienced soldier from her posting with 101st Airborne, and all she needs is a little discipline. If things don’t work out for either of them, I’ll personally throw their bags on a chopper.” 

Upon returning to the briefing room, Sylia did not want to fall behind on her training schedule, and she did have a bit of material to cover. “Barring any further interruptions, we’re going to continue with the lecture.” Sylia told her trainees. Using her laptop, she clicked on a PowerPoint presentation on the desktop.

Appearing on the projection screen was the insignia of Cobra under it in bold letters, “the enemy.” “The Cobra organization is one of the most well equipped, organized and highly trained terrorist organization in the world. Formed in the late 1970s, by a man who would later be known throughout the world as Cobra Commander, started out as a grassroots group of nuts; but through financial backing, arms deals and other support through unknown means, became a clear and present danger to the National Security of the United States.” 

Clicking the mouse, the next slide appeared with a picture and some important data about Cobra Commander. Cobra Commander a person with a criminal record that can fill a filing cabinet. No identity, no background, not even a description outside the helmet and faceplate he wears or how he acquired his reptilian lisp. He seemed to have appeared of out nowhere before Cobra was formed. “The Commander is ruthless, devious and cunning. He'll sooner give a Viper a face full of lead at point blank range than give him a realistic punishment to maintain discipline in the ranks.”

“Must be a bitch to ask for a raise,”

“That can go without saying Priss. Anyway, Cobra Commander has one fatal flaw, his overbearing ego.” Sylia explained. Cobra Commander had a tendency to declare victory rather prematurely. Sometimes, when he takes personal control of a situation, he’ll make rash judgments over objections from his field commanders, claiming his genius will win the day; then everything goes to hell. After the dust settles, he’ll use his subordinates for scapegoats.

Appearing next after Cobra Commander’s file was a man in black wearing a silver head mask, unlike the Commander’s faceplate; this one had facial features such as eyes, nose, ears and a mouth. “Destro, chief weapons supplier for Cobra. He is also a Scottish national. According to some very sketchy reports this has been family business since the 16th century and as head of that business, it is a custom to wear a mask like the one he’s wearing,” Sylia explained. She further explained that some of his weapon designs were stolen for other sources such as the specs for both the A-10 Thunderbolt and the SR-71 Blackbird to create the Rattler and the Night Raven. But his organization has designed and built on their own for Cobra, prime example would be the HISS Tank and the Stun.

After Destro’s file was a woman with long black hair and eyeglasses. “The Baroness,” Sylia simply said, “Baroness DeCobray, Cobra’s Intelligence Officer, her specialty is to go undercover and gain access to top secret installations. The only drawback for her is when she is undercover; she has to make sure her strong European accent doesn’t show.”

Next were twins wearing business suits except for one of the twins had a scar running down his cheek. “Xamot and Tomax,”

“Which is which?” Asked Priss, she couldn’t tell the two apart.

“The only way to tell them apart is the scar, and I get a headache trying to figure it out,” Sylia replied, “Moving on, the twins are CEO’s and chairmen of the board of Extensive Enterprises a front for Cobra, it’s a highly traded stock on the NYSE, so on paper and to the public their corporation is legit, but it does give Cobra the financial backing it needs for their operations.”

“Lt.?”

“Yes, Nene,”

“How much profit does Extensive Enterprises generate in one year and how long will that keep Cobra in the black?”

Good question. Despite that Nene can be quite naïve, she’s pretty sharp. The Lt. didn’t even expect that.

“Well,” Sylia started as she searched though some files and pulled out their annual report, “In 1999, the company’s gross annual profits was 5.5 billion dollars for that year. If you take out paying dividends to investors, end of the year expenses, taxes and other expenses; also if you add on what Cobra has tucked away in Swiss bank accounts and multiple stock portfolios, Cobra can be maintained, well supplied and include benefits and 401k’s for considerable amount of time.”

Before going back to the lecture, Lt. Stingray allowed for a ten-minute break for her and her trainees to stretch, get something to drink or just smoke a cigarette.

In the administration building’s lounge, Linna got herself a bottle of water; after inserting a dollar into the vending machine for A&W root beer, Nene pressed the button and nothing came out; pressing it multiple times still nothing. “Hey, Priss can you help me?”

“Yeah sure. Machine ain’t coughing up your soda?”

“Yeah,”

“No problem, kid,” Priss said cracking her knuckles. In one swift move, she slammed her fist hard on the front of the vending machine, then Nene’s soda dropped into the tray.

“Thanks Priss,”

“Don’t mention it,” Priss told redheaded NCO, while she lit a cigarette.

Sylia sat one of the tables in the back, drinking a diet coke; she was also searching her pockets for a lighter or a book of matches to light her cigarette. Priss took a chair across from Sylia; she turned the chair around so she can lean on the back of the chair. Watching the Lt.’s plight, Priss produced a cigarette lighter from her left breast pocket and handed it to the Lt. “Thanks, even though I prefer a Zippo lighter over these $2 disposable lighters; but this will suffice.” Sylia remarked to the Sgt. as she lit her cigarette. Priss took back the lighter back after opening her can of coke.

Taking a long slow drag from her cigarette and slowly exhaled, Sylia almost felt like she was unwinding even if it was just for a few minutes.

While drinking her coke between smokes, Priss observed her CO and could wonder what was going on in her mind. All Priss could do was wonder.

Sylia had been under a considerable amount of stress. She had never had enough time to rest; before her recent leave, she had about 3 sorties where she was needed, then she was asked to be a guest instructor at the Ranger school at Fort Benning where she was for 6 months. Finally, Sylia was able to go back to her home in Norfolk and spend some time with Mackie. After being home for only a week and half, she was called back into service to train Priss, Linna and Nene. This also meant she had to travel from the base to Chicago to Los Angeles and back. Then there is Beachhead, a major thorn in her side. After her team was fully trained, she planned to put in for a month or 2-month leave and just go away somewhere to relax before she either has a nervous breakdown or carried off in a straitjacket to the US laughing academy.

With the break over, the four were back in the briefing room with Sylia picking up on Xamot and Tomax. “Continuing, both the twins were educated in Switzerland so they quite knowledgeable about international business and banking laws and ways of getting around ‘em without getting caught. In Cobra, they hold position of Commanders of the Crimson Guard. I’ll explain about the Crimson Guards later. In a fight the two are very quick and agile, able to perform acrobatics that would make a daredevil shake at the knees. But they do possess a rather unique ability, the twins have a ‘psionic’ link with each other, which they can start and finish each other sentences or finish in unison; also they can sense if each other is in danger, or if one twin is attacked the other will also experience the pain.”

“Now, that I like! I just beat the shit out of a twin and the other bastard will also feel it!”

“Thank you Priss for that insightful analysis for dealing with the Crimson Guard Commanders,” Sylia sarcastically remarked. Moving on, Sylia punched up the dossiers of Major Bludd, Firefly and Scrap-Iron.

The picture of Major Bludd showed him as a lean, medium build person wearing a brown uniform, a chest protector and an armguard covering from his wrist to halfway up him right arm. He also had a pencil thin moustache and eye patch covering his left eye and a black helmet. “Major Sebastian Bludd, an Australian national. He was once a major in the Australian SAS (Special Air Service), until he went freelance, offering services in such places as Libya.”

“Next, Firefly, Cobra’s saboteur,” Sylia said showing a picture of Firefly on the screen. The saboteur was clad in light and dark gray camo fatigues and a gray ski mask. “No one knows what he looks he like or his real name, but he quite well known for his work. An expert with all NATO and Warsaw Pact explosives, that and he knows where to place his devices where they could do the most damage.”

“I’ll bet for the type of work he does, it doesn’t come cheap,” Linna remarked

“Actually, you’re correct Linna. Cobra Commander pays him in advance to a numbered Swiss bank account. He makes no promises and no refunds.” Sylia said

“Scrap Iron, the chief weapons tester,” stated Sylia showing Scrap Iron on the screen. He wore a helmet with the Cobra emblem emblazed on it and a tinted visor, also a blue uniform with a red chest protector, lower waist protector and boots. “This man holds a very important job within the Cobra organization; putting new weapons and vehicles through their paces before they’re issued. Scrap Iron is a very meticulous and patient person. Any imperfection would not be tolerated, which explains why Cobra’s equipment wasn’t built from substandard material.”

Finally, Sylia reached the grunt level of the lecture. The Crimson Guards also known as “Sieges” are the elite shock troops of Cobra. They’re tasked to serve as body guards for Cobra Commander, also act as security in highly sensitive areas, and can be used in conjunction with Alley Vipers in clearing teams*. To qualify as a Crimson Guard, you must hold degrees in either law or accounting and must be in top physical condition; from unconfirmed reports, before you’re a Crimson Guard you must go through an initiation that’s too hideous to describe.

Next were Vipers that are the backbone of Cobra’s military and are broken down into different branches. Regular Vipers are highly trained, well motivated and equipped. A Viper can be a very dangerous opponent, because they’re driven by greed for material wealth and power.

Another branch of Vipers are known as Techno Vipers, their specialties are maintenance and combat engineers. These Vipers are responsible of maintaining Cobra’s equipment and bases, constructing installations; clearing obstructions for advancing forces and repairing equipment in the field.

Then there are Alley Vipers, a type of Viper trained for urban warfare and riot control. Field equipment for an Alley Viper is a submachine gun and a riot shield. Because of this, they act as clearing teams in concert with the Crimson Guard.

The 3rd branch of Viper is known as Tele Viper. Whose primary tasks are operating and maintaining Cobra’s telecommunication and computer networks. A Tele Viper’s helmet has built into it a set of high-resolution headphones with overload dampers, two voice actuated microphones, an LED display built into the goggles, which can display information through a portable CPU on the Tele Vipers back or through an interface in a computer terminal.

Lastly, Cobra’s Air and Sea units; their air corp consist of Air Vipers and Strato Vipers. Air Vipers are trained to fly from FANG helicopters to Rattler fighters. But Strato Vipers are the “best of the best” not only can they handle usual assortment of Cobra fighter jets, but are trained to handle the Night Raven. A Strato Viper is an Air Viper who has opted to be surgically altered to withstand hypoxia, hyperventilation and other decompression sickness that can affect a pilot above the Armstrong line (63,000 feet). 

There are also Eels (Cobra frogmen) who are trained in underwater combat and UDT (Underwater Demolition Teams); there are two other branches in the Eel division those are Snow Serpents and Lampreys. Lampreys are amphibious troopers who are adept at land and sea combat; they’re also specialized to handle marine crafts such as the Water Moccasin strike/patrol airboat and the Moray Hydrofoil.

Snow Serpents receive the standard Eel training then have six additional months of arctic training.

Sylia glanced at her watch, it was almost 1700 hours, “I’m going to lecture for another hour, then pick this up in the morning,” Sylia stated, since at 1800 was dinner.

“In spite of Cobra’s capabilities to commit terrorism anytime and anywhere around the world. For certain jobs, they tend outsource to a mercenary group called the Dreadnoks,” Sylia said as she access their files. “Their leader Zartan,” Sylia began, “a master of disguise, who can be anyone; a ventriloquist, a formable linguist (over 20 languages and dialects) and a considerable escape artist.”

“Jesus! How the fuck are you suppose to nail that bastard!”

“Mainly through biometrics, Zartan may be able to slip pass voice recognition, but not through a retinal scan. There is one ability Zartan has is he’s able to blend into surrounding environment much like a chameleon. No one knows if he was born like this or got it through genetic alterations.”

After Zartan’s file, Sylia punched up the file of the three other Dreadnoks. “These morons I would find laughable if they weren’t so dangerous. Torch, Ripper and Buzzer; both Torch and Ripper are Australian nationals with very long criminal records, hell, those two were barely out of diapers before embarking on their life of crime. Buzzer was a different case; he used to be a left wing sociology professor at Cambridge; he originally gone to Australia to research the biker gang phenomenon, but somewhere down the road, he snapped and became the very object of his research.”

“Lt., how do you suggest these three should be dealt with in a fight?”

“Well, Linna, with your background in martial arts you would have no trouble taking Torch, Buzzer or Ripper. Because those three are not trained fighters, they’ll just lash out and very easy to predict. Also they’re complete morons.”

“I see,”

“Well, we will be finishing this lecture tomorrow where we will learn about Hydra, A.I.M. and other terrorists. Dismissed.”

Priss, Linna and Nene got up and walked out of the room; leaving Sylia to shut down the A/V equipment and pack up her laptop.

At 1800 hours, the mess hall was filled with personnel either already having dinner or waiting in line to be served. Priss stood in line to grab something to eat. About a couple of people behind her, Leatherneck and Wet Suit were standing in line for chow. “Oh my god! It can’t be her?!” exclaimed Leatherneck, Wet Suit looked at him puzzled, “Who buddy?”

“The brunette just ahead of us with the red eyes,” Leatherneck pointed out to Wet Suit.

Wet Suit looked at the woman Leatherneck pointed out, an approving smile came to his face when he examined the beautiful women in question, “I don’t know what the problem is; she’s quite a looker. You know her?”

“No, but I’ve heard of her. That’s Sgt. Priss Asagiri. I’ve heard she put five marines into the hospital just from one fight. I heard from other marines that you don’t know fear until you pissed off Asagiri.” Leatherneck explained.

Wet Suit couldn’t believe his ears a marine admitting to fear especially of a young woman who appears to have a bad attitude. Whatever happened to a marine knows no fear?

After getting her food, Priss looked around for empty seat. “Hey Priss!” Somebody called out; she looked around, and then saw Covergirl flagging her over.

Priss made her way to the table Covergirl was sitting at sat down herself. “What is this stuff?” Priss asked before she started to eat.

“Prime rib with scalloped potatoes and sautéed vegetables,” Covergirl answered.

Taking a small bite from her prime rib, Priss was astonished by the taste, “My god, compared to what I got in Kosovo, that shit was garbage! Also eating in a foxhole from time to time didn’t help. You people always eat this good here, I always thought Generals and other top brass bastards get this type of food?”

“Only when Roadblock is cooking.”

“Who?”

“Roadblock, he’s our heavy machine gunner. He’s also studying to be a gourmet chef.”

“Thank god, the Army didn’t train him to be a cook or we would all be eating SOS (Shit On a Shingle)*. I can still remember the mad dash people made for the latrines to make the 4 o’clock barf after SOS was served.” 

Finishing her coffee, “Priss let me give you some advice, for breakfast tomorrow stick with the coffee, it may eat away at your dental work but it’ll keep you alive unlike the food,” then Covergirl got up to refill her coffee cup. Leaving Priss quietly chuckling to herself as she tried the sautéed vegetables. 

At another table Sylia read a Tom Clancy novel as she ate her dinner. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” asked a gravelly voice.

Sylia pulled her attention from her book to the man in front of her. “By all means General, please.” Sylia insisted, then when back to reading.

“What are you reading Sylia?”

“Oh, Rainbow Six, actually it’s a very good read,” Sylia commented, “Clancy is such a marvelous writer, I haven’t been able to put this book down.”

Carrying their trays, Linna looked for a place for Nene and herself to sit. “If you two are looking for a place, we have some empty seats right her,” spoke a brunette at the table next to Nene.

“Thanks,” Linna said, both Nene and her sat down.

“By the way this is Scarlett, and I’m Lady J.” Lady J said; Scarlett just gave a friendly wave.

“I’m Linna,”

“And I’m Nene, pleased to meet you.”

Being new to the base, Lady J offered Nene and Linna to join Scarlett and in their quarters for couple hands of Gin Rummy and get to know the two better.

From her table, Sylia watched the interaction between her trainees and several members of GI Joe. They appear to be fitting in well. Sylia though, taking another sip of her coffee. “I hope you did inform them about Shipwreck, Sylia,” Hawk stated.

Sylia shook her head, “I don’t have to Clayton.”

“Oh, why?”

“Well, Priss is more than capable of taking care of herself. Linna as well, I think Nene won’t have any trouble since Linna took it upon herself to look after her. But if that lecherous sailor does try to make unwanted advances on my subordinates, I’ll deep six his sorry ass!”

After her first decent meal in the Army, Priss made her way to the rec room. Sgt. Asagiri looked with amazement at the rec room; it had two pool tables, a 62” TV with a DirecTV account, up-to-date magazines. Hmm, these people must have one hell of a guy in Special Services. The bastard we had in Special back in Kosovo, always sending us such crap like training films. Saving the good stuff for those rear echelon fuckers!

From the pool table, Gung-Ho caught a glimpse of Priss out of the corner of his eye. Shipwreck looked at her and undressed her with his eyes. “Hey, who’s the babe?”

Gung-Ho looked up briefly before making his shot. “That’s Sgt. Priss Asagiri, from what I’ve heard, the only person who piss her off is if they’ve got some kind of a death wish.”

“You mean…”

“I mean is from what I’ve heard from a buddy of mine at Camp Pendleton, there were a total of 20 marines in the infirmary during her basic training there before she was shipped off to Fort Campbell to train with the 101st Airborne.”

“Well, I think I’ll mingle,” Shipwreck said, putting his cue down. He walked up close to Priss who was browsing the magazine rack. “Hey there gorgeous!” He smiled placing her butt. “The name’s Shipwreck, how about I get the keys to the supply room and we get to know each other better.” This is one hell of a woman.

Gung-Ho watched the sailor put his moves on Priss. That boy better watch it, or Doc is goin’ be on overtime.

A sly, seductive smile came across Priss’ lips, “You know, Shipwreck you're kind of cute. That is why I’m going to let you take your hand off my ass instead of breaking every bone in your body.”

Shipwreck quickly removed his hand from her ass and darted back to the pool table leaving Priss chuckling to herself at all this. “I told you, you’re lucky you got off light,” Gung-Ho told the sailor.

Flying from a perch on a pedestal was Shipwreck’s bird Polly, and landed on his shoulder. “You got deep sixed swabby!” squawked the bird; Shipwreck responded by clamping his beak shut, “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask.”

Placing the magazine back on the rack, Priss walked into adjacent room. With the sounds of clicking chips, the shuffling of cards and some familiar terms, she could tell it was a poker game. The only person she recognized was the Lt. To Priss, Lt. Stingray was a paradox; she had the appearance of an upper class upbringing but she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or getting into a fight. Also Sylia appeared to be the type of person who had high society interest such as opera or any of those crappy art shows, but instead she appeared to have an interest in baseball and plays poker with the boys. What next, will Sylia possess a dirty joke repertoire larger than Priss’?

“Good evening, Sgt,”

“Hey, Lt.!”

“Care to join us?” Sylia asked as she shuffled a deck in her hands. “Allow me to introduced the other players Ace, Ripcord and Wild Bill.”

“Cool, deal me in,” Priss whipping out her wallet to exchange some cash for poker chips.

“Well, I wouldn’t be much of a Texas gentleman, if I didn’t offer this pretty young filly a seat,” Wild Bill said pulling out a chair for Priss

“Thanks,” Priss said as she sat down, “At least you aren’t trying to hit on me.”

“Referring to Shipwreck?” Sylia asked

Priss only nodded

“Well, at least our hormone high sailor is consistent,” Ripcord sarcastically remarked.

“What he’s hit on others?” Priss asked with an arched eyebrow

“Yeah, Scarlett, Lady J, Covergirl, even Lt. Stingray,” Ripcord answered

Priss’ eyes were open wide with surprised looking towards the Lt. Sylia only nodded confirming Ripcord’s claims

“But it was the only time, I told him, he would be taking in all his meals through a straw if he tries to hit on me again.”

“Hey, are we going to chew the fat or play poker?!” Priss complained

“Okay, five card draw deuces wild,” Sylia named the game while dealing. “Ante up.” Each of players tossed their opening ante into the pot. “Dealer bets 20,” Sylia announced throwing in 2 $10 dollar blue chips. Ace, Ripcord and Wild Bill saw her bet and threw in $20 each.

“20 huh?” Priss mused, “Okay, Lt., I see your bet and raise you 40.” Priss threw in 4 blue chips.

“Dealer takes two,” Sylia dealt herself two cards for her hand. She also dealt replacement cards to the other players who wanted them. Looking at his hand, Ripcord folded.

Priss studied her opponents; Ace had an air of confidence of being an experienced card player. Sylia’s face didn’t show any emotion, it was not known whether she had a good or bad hand. Wild Bill wipe sweat from his brow, he was starting to feel the heat.

Sylia called. Unsuccessfully Ace bluffed with a pair of 4’s. Wild Bill had nothing. Prematurely, Priss thought she won with a full house of kings and tens. She began to scoop the winnings until the Lt. stopped her. “Um Sgt. I’m afraid you’re a little premature declaring victory, seeing I have a straight flush,” Sylia mentioned showing the ace, two, three, four and five of hearts. Priss slumped back into her chair as the Lt. scooped up her winnings.

Meanwhile Sylia took her victims to the financial cleaners, in her quarters, which she shared with Scarlett and Lady J, The two invited Linna and Nene to play Gin Rummy and just for small talk. “I didn’t know you already have a relationship with Duke,” Linna confessed about her run-in with Duke this morning. ”But he’s a cute guy.”

“That okay Linna, if it was innocent, I don’t mind. I don’t like other women flirting with Duke especially in front of me.”

“I saw one I thought was a real guy. He was rugged and handsome. I think Flint is a good looking guy,” Nene said with her head in her hands and a starry eyed expression in her eyes, almost fantasizing.

“Uh, Nene, he’s spoken for,” Linna whispered bringing Nene out of her fantasy. Nene looked around as if she was brought out of a dream. Scarlett, Linna and Lady J laughed at the situation.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know Flint was spoken for,” Lady J told Nene patting her on the back.

A couple hours later, Sylia walked in, counting a big wad of cash in her hands.

“I hope you left your victims some money to get them through until the end of the month?” Lady J remarked to the Lt.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t send my victims to the poorhouse,” Sylia replied, continuing to count her winnings. But she stop for a moment, “I must admit Priss nearly gave me a run for my money, but just for the moment.”

The next morning Priss, Linna and Nene were back in the briefing room waiting for the Lt. to continue the lecture from yesterday. “Can you believe that breakfast we had? God, those eggs were bland.” Linna remarked; she felt like she just wanted throw up.

“Maybe they should add some rat poison next time, improved the taste,” Priss retorted.

Opening the door, Lt. Stingray walked in apparently surviving breakfast. “What the hell happen to you three?”

“You didn’t eat breakfast, did you?” Priss asked the Lt.

“Of course not. When the regular cook is making the meals, I usually stick to the coffee.” Leaving for a couple of minutes, Sylia came back with 3 packets of Alka-Seltzer and an equal number of cups of water. “These will fix you up.”

While her three trainees took the antacids Sylia brought back, she began hooking up her laptop to the A/V projector. Another PowerPoint presentation appeared on the screen. “Besides Cobra, there are other terrorist organizations and terrorists, such groups as ULTIMATUM and the Watchdogs.”

“Lt., what are the Watchdogs?”

“The Watchdogs, in my opinion are a bunch of beer guzzling, southern rednecks who think they’re the moral guardians of America,” Sylia replied.

“Shit, the bastards have too much time on their hands,” Priss laughed

“Well, these people have declared war on pornography, abortion, sex Ed, possibly alterative lifestyles and the teaching of evolution.”

“Don’t like the fact that we all evolved from a bunch of stinking apes?” Priss remarked.

“Apparently these people will use vandalism, arson, flogging and will resorted to murder upon institutions and people whose behaviors or views they don’t like.”

A new slide came up showing a man in black and white clothing with a white ski mask and a black beret. “This is an agent of ULTIMATUM or Underground Totally Integrated Mobile Army To Unite Mankind. This group was founded by a nut job called the Flag Smasher. An anarchist group, which is bent on destroying any and all traces of nationalism in the world.” 

Clicking the mouse, Sylia brought up another slide on her PowerPoint presentation of a woman in green, with her hair draped over one eye. “The Viper, to avoid any confusion she is not with Cobra. She was known as Madam Hydra when Hydra was fragmented after the ‘death’ of Baron Von Strucker. Somehow she lost her position; after her fall from grace, she proclaimed a nihilistic view on life…”

“Lt.,” Priss interrupted, “What is a nihilist?”

Sylia took a moment to think of the definition, “I’m not completely accurate, but I think it means someone who creates chaos for chaos’ sake,” Sylia answered

“Sounds like the bitch is nuts!”

“Hmm, the Viper’s face on the right has been disfigured due to an accident, so she covers it up with her hair. But, you’re right Priss, she is crazy, she allowed herself to have fangs capable of injecting venom when she bites someone, to be surgically implanted. But what’s even sicker, she gets turned on while torturing a victim. I’ve heard horror stories while she is inflicting a considerable amount of pain, she would rape them regardless of gender, the Viper’s equal opportunity.”

“That’s inhuman!” Nene said, denouncing the Viper’s methods.

“Nene, you must realized the concept of human rights is alien to these people. Do you think the Nazis worried about human rights when they sent people to the death camps because they’re inferior to the Master Race? Or Stalin when he sent people to the gulags to die?” Sylia asked Nene.

When the Lt. mentioned Stalin, it brought a painful memory for Nene. “Excuse me please,” Nene said unable to control her crying, she got up and left. Sitting down on the floor in the hallway next to the door, Nene broke down and cried.

“Nene?” asked a concern Sylia, she crouched down placing her hand on Nene’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry Lt. I’m part Russian. My grandparents fled Russia and Stalin’s death camps. My grandmother wanted to pass down my Russian heritage, which I learned to speak fluent Russian. My grandparents witnessed the horrors of the camps before escaping to America, after my dad joined the US Army, my grandfather committed suicide.”

Sylia continued to listen with shock of what she was hearing but also she had sympathy for Nene. “Why did your grandfather commit suicide?”

“My grandfather fought against the Nazis at both Leningrad and Stalingrad; and was part of the invasion of Berlin. He was given the Soviets highest medal for his actions in ‘The Great Patriotic War’ but my family did not consider themselves as communist and disagreed with the policies of Stalin’s. The KGB arrested them in the middle of the night, declared them enemies of the state and to make things worse my family was catholic; so they were sentenced to the gulags in Siberia. But after six months of the most brutal conditions, they were smuggled out of the country and allowed to be passengers on a British liner bound for the US. My grandfather committed suicide because he couldn’t bear the guilt anymore, after selfless service in the Soviet military, then being disgraced for his beliefs.”

“Nene,” Sylia softly said, “I only used Stalin as an example. I didn’t know about your family history.”

A couple of more tears ran down her face. “Nene, listen to me. You should not bear the pain or the sins brought upon your family.” Sylia told the young NCO. Sylia acted as the voice of experience, she had her own cross to bear; the falling out she had with her father when she decided to attend West Point, and the guilt she carried when she and her father were going to talk as father and daughter for the first time in a year. He actually admitted that he loved her and was very proud of her. Dr. Stingray planned to visit Sylia while he was in New York on business, to repair the rift between them and put some old ghosts to rest. But her father died in a plane crash on route to New York. Sylia felt intensely guilty, there was a lot she wanted to say to her father, but couldn’t. But she did not want Mackie bearing any of her guilt; it was her burden to carry and no one else’s.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling a little better, Lt.”

Sylia and Nene walked back in. Nene took her seat next to Linna. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Linna,” smiled Nene.

Continuing with her lecture, she presented a slide of a person in a yellow jumpsuit and weird yellow helmet. “A.I.M. (Advanced Ideas and Mechanics). Once they were Hydra’s R&D section until they broke off went independent. The organization tends to rely on high tech weaponry and other advanced designs for world domination.”

Moving on from A.I.M. to a bald man with a scar over his right eye, wearing a monocle dress in a green suit. “Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker, supreme leader of Hydra,” Sylia said, “a former Nazi officer. Called upon by Hitler to put together a Special Ops group code named “the Blitzkrieg Squadron,” to counter an allied commando group “the Howling Commandos,” under the command of Sgt. Nick Fury. But Strucker was defeated time and again by the fore mentioned unit. After his falling out with the Fuehrer, Strucker went to Japan to form Hydra and A.I.M.,” Sylia explained. Continuing in 1960’s, Strucker met his ‘end’ at the hands of CIA agent Nick Fury at a place called Hydra Island; anything further about this is classified. But for reasons that are unknown or classified Strucker seems to be running Hydra again.

Next slide appeared of a skull with tentacles. “Hydra a terrorist organization that rivals Cobra. Their agents are known to chant, ‘Hail Hydra! Immortal Hydra! We shall never be destroyed, cut off one limb and two more shall take its place! We serve the Supreme Hydra as the world will soon serve us!” Sylia explained, “Hydra took fascism to a near religious ideal. After Strucker’s ‘death’ Hydra was fragmented which A.I.M. and a group called the Secret Empire went independent,” Sylia told her trainees. In recent years Hydra has been increasingly distant and abandoning the Nazism, which the group was found on, and began running it like a corporation.

Clicking for the next slide, Sylia displayed a picture of a man in black and white with a white skull on his chest. “Anytime you’re in New York, you might run into this person. The Punisher AKA: Frank Castle, a highly decorated Marine. This man has declared a one-man war against crime, since his wife and kids were murdered accidentally witnessing a mob killing. If you encounter him, he is extremely dangerous, trained in various forms of hand-to-hand combat, and he has a lot of weapons at his disposal; meaning he could have a few automatic weapons or a chain gun on him,” Sylia concluded.

Nene got up and turned on the lights. “Any questions?” Asked the Lt., “So no questions. Tomorrow we start on weapons training, then we move into the hard stuff, dismissed.”

Later that evening, Sylia sat quietly at the bar in the Officers’ Club (Enlisted men welcome of course) “What will it be, Lt.?” asked the bartender.

“Bourbon please,” she requested

Priss walked in followed by Linna and Nene. “Hey Bartender get me a beer.”

After serving Sylia her bourbon, the bartender filled a beer mug for Priss.

“What will you have?”

“I’ll have a pina colada,”

“I’ll need to see your ID kid,” The bartender said to Nene, noticing how young she was

“I’m going to be 21 in a year,” complained Nene showing her ID, which stated she was 20.

“Well, what will you have kid? But I can’t serve you no booze.”

Nene whispered her order into the bartender’s ear. “What?! Are ya’ kiddin’?!” Exclaimed the bartender at her order. Nene only nodded and he complied

“What did you order Nene?” Asked Sylia

“A screwdriver?” Priss questioned

“Mai Tai?” Linna pondered

“Scotch on the rocks?” Sylia mused

“No just a good stiff drink,” Nene smiled

“Here ya’ are kid, one Shirley Temple.”

Nene sheepishly looked at her drink then her friends, learning Nene’s drink, Priss, Sylia and Linna busted out laughing. “Hey Nene, better not drink too much you might be driving.”

“I hope you don’t suffer from a hangover from this,” Linna said, nearly doubling over with laugher.

Sylia called the bartender over; she was chuckling at the situation. “Fix the kid a Bloody Mary.”

“But Lt. she’s underage.”

“Leave out the vodka.”

The bartender fixed Nene a virgin Bloody Mary. “Here ya’ are kid,”

“What this?”

“I figured since you’re drinking with the grown ups, maybe you should drink something stronger than a Shirley Temple.” Sylia told her redheaded NCO.

Next morning, Sylia had her trainees out on the firing range. “Today ladies, we will learn about some of the small arms you will use. Some of it might be new or review,” She picked up a .45 from the table, “This is the Heckler & Koch Mk 23 Mod 0, also known as the SOCOM pistol (Special Operations COMmand). It’s a .45 with an effective firing range of 54.70 yards. It carries a 12 round magazine. The SOCOM has very little recoil, so you can acquire or reacquire a target. There are two crucial components, the flash and sound suppressor and the Laser Aiming Module (LAM).”

Sylia monitored her trainees on the firing range with the SOCOM. Priss unloaded about three clips on the target. Nene will need to practice more. Linna stared at the SOCOM at her hand for seem like forever.

“Linna?”

“Oh, Lt.,” Linna said broken out of her daze.

“Are you all right?”

“Lt. I can’t use a gun,”

“Why?”

“It’s personal,”

“Linna, despite what you’re personal feelings are. In a firefight you will have to rely on your side arm.”

The next weapon was the M9 9mm Beretta pistol, the new standard sidearm of the Army to replace the M1911A1. The M9 had a 15 round magazine with a maximum effective firing range of 152.5 feet.

This next firearm was one of Sylia’s favorites, the MP-5N Heckler & Koch 9mm submachine gun. She preferred a small arm rather than a weapon like a .50 caliber machine gun. Sylia always made it a policy of hers to never carry anything bigger than an M-16, but she has used an RGB6 and a Stinger missile launcher. The MP-5N had a retractable stock, carried a 30 round magazine with a maximum effective firing range of 328.1 feet with a rate of fire of 800 rounds per minute. What Sylia liked about this weapon was it was lightweight and capable (accuracy, lethality and reliability).

The rest of the weapons training for Sgt. Asagiri was nothing more than review of the M-16, M-4 carbine and her personal favorite the 12 gauge pump shotgun. 

“We will meet in the gym at 1400 hours, where will we have a guest instructor.” Dismissing her trainees, Sylia headed for her office, since she had some paperwork that needed to be done. This has been a considerable juggling act for her not only her duty as chief intelligence officer, but also her training schedule and anything that may come up in the interim. Sitting at her desk, she had a stack of paperwork on her desk. Looking at the stack, she gave out an exasperated sigh, she hasn’t had a chance to rest, and she hasn’t had a good night sleep in a while; only thing that keeping her going was caffeine; the drug of her choice.

Suddenly a rapping came to her office door, “What?!” She barked

The door opened and General Hawk walked in. “General… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude,” Sylia apologized to Hawk; she never tried to snap at her CO.

“Lt., I’ve been noticing you’ve been under a little stress,”

“’A little’ is somewhat of a understatement, Clayton. Not only do I have my trainees but I have this shit!” Sylia remarked picking up a handful intell reports. “Clayton, if you want me to do this job at least give me time to rest. I’ve been fighting my own exhaustion to train Asagiri, Yamazaki and Romanova. At least have someone else conduct the training, so I can get a day off.”

Looking at her eyes, Hawk could see how tired she was, even if she tried not to show it. “I’ll see what I can do to get you some time off or some one to handle your workload, Sylia.”

“Thank you Clayton,” Sylia got up from her chair and headed for the door, “Excuse me, sir, I have other matters to take care of.”

Hawk watched Sylia walked out of the office. Despite how tired she was; she had her head held high and had a confidant stride in her step. She shouldn’t push herself this hard. But I’m also to blame. I didn’t give her a break between those 3 sorties, or sending her to be that guest instructor. Plus I should have never cancelled her leave.

Opening a door, Sylia walked into a dark room. Damn! It’s dark. She mentally swore. Sylia heard something growl, wondering if that her stomach or something else. “Snake-Eyes are you in here?!” She called out.

As she searched for a lamp, a light switch anything; in an instant something pounced on the Lt., knocking her down to the ground. Falling on her back, something was on top of her, growling. Somebody turned on the lights. The thing on top of her was Snake-Eyes’ pet wolf Timber. Recognizing her scent, Timber wagged his tail and licked Sylia’s face.

A clap of Snake-Eyes’ hands ordered Timber to get off of Lt. Stingray. Back on her feet, she faced Snake-Eyes.

Snake-Eyes was the unit commando and martial arts expert; he had more experience than Linna or Scarlett. Dressed in a black body suit that covered him from head-to-toe with a visor covering his eyes. A lot about the man was secret, even at her clearance level; Sylia did not have access to his complete service record. To Sylia, Snake-Eyes was a man who has been to hell and back so many times he’s qualified for frequent flier miles; seeing the horrors of Vietnam in the LRRP (Long Range Recon Patrol); his family killed in an auto accident, shortly after his return from ‘Nam. Fleeing to Japan, he lost himself in intensive martial arts training and came back to the service a completely different person. During one of the earliest mission of the GI Joe team, before Sylia signed on; he was the victim of an explosion that scarred his entire head and damaged his vocal cords beyond repair. His loyalty to his friends, his commitment to duty and strong will managed to keep him sane.

Sitting on the couch, Snake-Eyes produced a pencil and a pad of paper. ‘What do you want, Lt.?’ He wrote

“I came to ask you a favor,” Sylia replied. Timber laid his head on the Lt.’s lap and whimpered; Sylia stroked the wolf’s head.

‘Of course, what is it,’ jotting down his response.

“I would like you to test the hand-to-hand combat abilities of my trainees in the gym at 1400 hours,” Sylia continued to pet Timber. The wolf gave an approving growl to Sylia’s attention.

A thumb’s up was Snake-Eyes’ answer. He’ll be there.

Returning to her quarters, Sylia headed for the couch and turned on her laptop on the coffee table. Instead of doing work, she played the only game she had loaded, Mech Commander Gold. It was a birthday gift from Mackie. She tried playing games like Doom and Quake, but those became redundant, since it was all predetermined; where to go, what to do, also blasting every alien and demon in sight got boring after while. What she enjoyed about Mech Commander was she was allowed to devise tactics and plans of attack; modify and replace weapons on Mechs for specific mission profiles. For example if Sylia purchased a Hollander II-W (Weapons Variant) she would change out the gauss rifle for a Clan ER-PPC (Extended Range Particle Projection Cannon), since the gauss rifle has limited ammo.

Simulators were another Sylia enjoyed. She was engrossed was with the storyline in Tie Fighter, how it was built up from a chronic shortage of Imperial supplies, to discovering a mass defection of Imperial Forces, then ending up fighting Imperial traitors in a civil war.

Metal Gear Solid was probably the best video game she played, seeing is that Sylia didn’t really care for video games; she was taken by surprise, when she watched Mackie played the game. The dialogue, voice acting, the storyline was something out of a Tom Clancy novel; the characters were just not generic, cut out good guy – bad guys, they were realistic; and just the sheer depth of research into the military was incredible.

Glancing at her watch, Sylia had a few hours to relax and play Mech Commander.

Around 1400, Priss, Linna and Nene stood in the gym wearing appropriate workout clothes. “Hmm, the Lt.’s late,” Linna stated, normally Sylia would be waiting for them.

“Well, if she ain’t here in 5 minutes, I’m outta here…”

“You leave Sgt. I’ll assign you detention for cutting class, after I break your legs,” Sylia joked as she entered the gym with someone else behind her. “Good afternoon ladies, today I want to test your hand-to-hand combat abilities. Which introduces our guest instructor Snake-Eyes 

Snake-Eyes only nodded.

“Must be the strong, silent type,” Priss whispered to her two friends next to her.

“Snake-Eyes will test you on how well you fight. Each of you will have exactly three minutes. The scoring will depend upon how well you fight and surviving three minutes without Snake-Eyes kicking your ass!” Then she turned to Snake-Eyes, “Don’t cripple ‘em. I need ‘em.”

That last comment gave her trainees a feeling that their next stop was the infirmary. “Priss, you’re the first vict… I mean opponent,” Sylia caught herself, it wouldn’t be nice to refer to them as victims even though it was Snake-Eyes they were up against.

Priss faced off against Snake-Eyes. Assuming fighting stances they were ready to fight.

“Ready?” Sylia had to ask, even though it was rather obvious.

Both combatants nodded and Sylia gave the signal to fight. Priss attacked, ramming her fist into Snake-Eyes’ stomach. Her fist connected with his gut, it felt like hitting a brick wall. Throwing another punch for his face, Snake-Eyes caught her fist and used her momentum to pull Priss forward and slammed his elbow into her face. Now enraged, Priss charged at him like a bull ready to attack. Grabbing her again, Snake-Eyes sent his knee into her stomach; leaving Priss hunched over, gasping for air and off guard. Snake-Eyes used this opportunity to strike with an uppercut, knocking Priss on her ass.

“Time,” Sylia called out; examining her Sgt, she didn’t look too bad. “You didn’t do too bad Priss. Most of Snake-Eyes’ opponents end up carrying their teeth home in a doggie bag.”

Linna was next to face Snake-Eyes. Assuming a fighting stance, Linna was not a stranger to this; Under her Uncle’s training in Japan, she had face off against an opponent like Snake-Eyes. Sometimes those opponents would be armed and she would be unarmed. My Uncle once said that my own body is my best weapon and remain focused only then will I win, Linna remembering her Uncle’s words.

Attacking, Snake-Eyes let out a fast left cross. With a forearm block, Linna deflected the blow and struck out with a hard kick to the head. With the kick connecting with his head sent Snake-Eyes reeling and disoriented. Taking advantage of this, Linna did a low sweeping kick to knock her opponent off his feet. Anticipating her attack, Snake-Eyes back flipped and came back at her with a flying kick; to avoid him, Linna ducked before his kick could connect. As Snake-Eyes got up from his failed flying kick, Linna stood right behind him and slammed her foot into the back of his knee.

If Snake-Eyes still had the power of speech, he would be screaming, that kick nearly knocked his knee out of the joint, but his training gave him a high threshold of pain. Grabbing a hold of Linna, he rammed his injured knee into Linna’s stomach. He struck her several more times until she broke free, and kicked him in the chin with the ball of her foot, knocking Snake-Eyes on his ass.

“Time,” Sylia called out, Linna and Snake-Eyes now back on his feet, stood down from their fighting stances to a relaxed stance. “Linna! I’m impressed, it’s a good thing this was just a test and not a no holds barred grudge match with you and Snake-Eyes as enemies. I would have a feeling it would not have been pleasant.”

Snake-Eyes came up to Linna and Sylia; he had his hand stretched out. Linna looked at it before things started clicking, he was congratulating for a well-fought fight. She shook his hand.

“Nene, you’re up,” Sylia called up Nene to fight Snake-Eyes.

“Hey, Snake-Eyes! Don’t hurt her too much, she might run home crying to mommy!” Priss yelled to the commando. “Hey kid! I hope you wrote out your will.”

“Enough Priss,” Sylia warned the Sgt. Nene was nervous enough as it is being intimidated by Snake-Eyes’ presence and having to fight him; Priss’ teasing didn’t help.

“Lt. are you sure you want Nene to fight Snake-Eyes?” Linna asked while Nene got into position.

“I’m aware of your concerns Linna. I have my reservations, but I want to get an accurate assessment.”

Facing off against Snake-Eyes was intimidating, Nene was sweating profusely from her head and palms, and her knees shook like jelly.

Sylia told both of them to begin fighting. In a fight Nene tended to be more defensive, using evasive tactics. She was scared and inexperienced to that end Snake-Eyes punched her in the stomach, hard enough to where she doubled over and blacked out. “Oh my god!” Sylia said shocked to what has happen.

“Nene!” Linna screamed running to her fallen friend.

What have I done? Sylia mentally panicked. She was overwhelmed with shock. Why did she do it? To hell with her assessment, testing Nene against Snake-Eyes was like putting a normal person up against Mike Tyson. Right now Sylia did not have the luxury of panicking. Not even thinking Snake-Eyes picked up the fallen NCO.

“Snake-Eyes can you carry her to the infirmary?” Sylia asked.

Snake-Eyes just nodded. He was responsible for injuring Nene and he should be the one to carry her to the infirmary. Even though he can’t express his feelings, he still felt remorse for what he has done. Priss, Linna and Snake-Eyes took Nene to the infirmary; Sylia headed somewhere else.

Slowly the darkness lifted from Nene’s eyes. Looking around the room and finding herself in a hospital bed; then she tried to get up but her stomach hurt like hell.

“Easy, don’t try to get up,” said someone next to her bed. Placing some medical charts on a table next to her, the person was Doc. Doc was GI Joe’s CMO (Chief Medical Officer), a very competent and capable whether being on the battlefield or in the OR. Graduating from Harvard Medical School and doing his residence at John Hopkins, this unit got its money worth on a doctor.

“What happen?”

“You were punched in the stomach by Snake-Eyes during an exercise and you blacked out. Your abdomen will be sore for a couple of days. But there was no serious damage.”

Snake-Eyes walked in after Doc left. “What do you want? Come to see you’re handiwork?” Nene spat venomously. She was clearly upset seeing Snake-Eyes, the one who landed in her in the infirmary, the one who could have done serious harm to her.

Snake-Eyes only took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Nene. Opening it up, she started to read.

Nene.  
Even though I cannot talk, I still want to apologize for what has happened. It was mistake to hit you as hard as I did. I felt bad for it; I was the one who carried you to the infirmary.

Snake-Eyes

After reading the note, Nene felt bad for her harsh remarks especially since Snake-Eyes could not talk. “Snake-Eyes, I accept your apology, you seemed to be a very sincere person,” Nene said, she was not one to hold a grudge.

Finishing her visit with Nene, Priss went out to look for the Lt., since she went MIA after Nene got hurt. Checking some the usual places turned up a big goose egg. The last possible place was her quarters. Priss knocked on the door several times with no reply. Knocking one more time. “Come in,” was the weak reply on the other side.

Entering, Priss saw the Lt. sitting at the couch. Sylia’s expression was distant; she didn’t notice Priss was in the room. Something was wrong. “I just saw Nene, she’s okay. Doc was going to release her back to quarters,” Priss said while sitting down on the couch.

“That’s nice,” Sylia wasn’t really paying attention to Priss.

“I wasn’t expecting you to do cartwheels,” Priss dryly remarked to Sylia’s monotone response.

“What do you expect me to say, ‘I’m glad she wasn’t seriously hurt?’” Sylia sharply replied there was a hint of anger in her brown eyes.

Not shaken by her CO’s outburst, Priss began to see this struck a cord with her. “I take it this situation touched a sore spot with you? Perhaps a similar situation?”

“Yes, but that’s classified,” Sylia lied

Priss raised an eyebrow, “Is that official or are you giving me a load of bullshit?!”

Sylia felt like ice water was thrown into her face, Priss was not talking to her as a Sgt. to an officer but as one person to another. “That will be all Sgt.,” Sylia seethed

“Sylia, she asked about you, wondering why you didn’t come to see how she was doing,” Priss pointed out, Sylia’s hands were clenching and unclenching.

“I’m not her mother,”

“Is this from the same person who defended her from Beachhead? Let’s dispense with the bullshit!”

Sylia looked at her Sgt., she was not going to back down. Sylia gave out a heavy sigh. “It’s not Nene or Snake-Eyes I’m angry at. I’m angry at myself,” Sylia admitted leaning back on the couch. “3 years ago, I was in charge of a Ranger unit. The mission was to root out a terrorist group in Cambodia, who have been linked to bombing several US Navel vessels and murder of Navy officers and sailors,”

Sylia told Priss about a part of her career, she never wanted to tell or relive. “My unit before being shipped out, we received a new transfer by the nickname of Maggot, a Southern Baptist to the extreme.”

“What does this have to do with Nene?”

“I’m getting to it, Priss. My unit had spent days tracking the group down. Much to my shock after we captured the leadership in a civilian village, Maggot shot and killed not only the terrorist leaders, but he turned and opened fire on innocent civilians with his M-4 rifle referring to them as sinners and claiming it was their judgment day. With the mission a failure and 20 civilian casualties, I took my SOCOM and shot Maggot in the back of the head.”

“Sounds like you made the right decision. I would have done the same thing.”

“Priss, I was in charge and I’m responsible for the actions of the personnel under my command. I faced a military tribunal for the actions of both Maggot and myself. I was cleared of the charges against me, but I was never to be allowed another command. Since then I have doubts of my command abilities.”

“I can see why you’re such a hard ass on the Rules of Engagement and the Articles of War because of that fucker.”

“That and those rules are what separates soldiers from terrorists.”

“Sylia, you can’t let one incident fuck up your entire career, or this recent command. Granted Nene was landed in the infirmary, but it was not like you intentionally put her in harms way. Lt. you’re probably the first officer I can respect and willing to risk my life for; and more importantly to call my friend.”

When it comes to Priss calling someone friend, she was not liberal about it; usually Priss took great care on who she calls friend.

“Friend? Thanks. Thanks Priss, if you’re willing to give me a chance, then I can give you, Linna, and Nene a chance.”

Lying in her bed in her quarters, Nene was reading a computer magazine. Doc wanted her to take it easy for a day; well, she shouldn’t refuse doctor’s orders. A slight tapping came to her door. “Yes,” she responded and the Lt. walked in.

“Hello Nene, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Sylia sat at the edge of Nene’s bed. She was feeling better after her talk with Priss. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you earlier. But the whole situation brought up unpleasant incident early in my career.”

“I’m fine Lt., Doc said I need a day of rest.”

“With Doc you’re in good hands.”

Sometime later, Scarlett sat on the couch, giving herself a pedicure, now faced with a tough decision of what shade to use. “Hi Sylia,” Scarlett greeted her friend and roommate as she entered carrying an edition of the Washington Times.

“Scarlett. I take it you and Duke are going out?” Sylia noticed the pedicure supplies to come to a reasonable supposition.

“Tomorrow actually, it’s a double date with Flint and Lady J.”

“Well, just remember I want you kids home before curfew,” Sylia joked as she sat down on the couch to the read the front page.

“Yes ‘Mom,’” Scarlett smirked. “Hey Sylia, which shade do you like better, the red or the peach?” Scarlett asked holding two bottles of nail polish.

“The red, it matches your hair,” Sylia remarked.

“Sylia, a package arrived for you, it right here on the coffee table,” Scarlett told Sylia, continuing to paint her toenails.

Putting her paper aside, Sylia examined the package, there was note attached. Opening the note, she recognized Mackie’s handwriting.

Sis,  
I’m sorry that we were unable to spend time together with your leave being cut short and how busy you can get. I figured you might be feeling kind of low. I sent you this package to cheer you up.

Love Mackie

Sylia felt touched by this. Even though Mackie can be a letch at times, but he’s good kid. Taking out a Swiss Army knife from her pocket, she flipped out the short knife blade to cut through the packing tape. Now opened, Sylia saw a Sony Playstation, Metal Gear Solid, and Metal Gear Solid VR Missions. There was a note on the VR Missions’ jewel case.

Sis,  
Just to warn you, I’ve played VR Missions some are a breeze and some get downright frustrating. Have fun.

Putting down VR Missions, Sylia took out two game guides about Metal Gear Solid and VR Missions, and a memory card. She remembered commenting to her younger brother that she did enjoyed playing Metal Gear. This would help her unwind after a hard day at the office. “I’ll have to give my brother a call, thanking him for the package,” Sylia said to Scarlett while thumbing through the VR Missions guide.

“What’s goal of Metal Gear, kill all the terrorists?” Scarlett mused.

“No, in Metal Gear you only kill when absolutely necessary, since stealth is paramount. But the primary objective is to stop the terrorists from launching a nuke.”

The next morning, Sylia waited for her trainees on the training field, clad in a dark blue tracksuit. It was 0500 hours and this was a scheduled training session. Nene, Linna and Priss arrived. However Nene looked half asleep, Priss’ demeanor showed she wasn’t a morning person, but Linna was as one would put it, ‘bright-eyed and bushy tailed.’

“Lt., why are we up at 5 Am? I was still in a coma,” Priss complained, also she kicked herself for leaving her cigarettes in her quarters.

“Come on Priss, it’s a beautiful morning, why so cranky?” Linna asked, taking note of the sunrise.

“Linna, there are 4 things that will insure that I will have a good morning: Beer, Coffee, cigarettes or killing something or someone first thing in the morning.”

Sylia gave a small chuckle before getting down to business. “This morning we’re going to take a run through the obstacle course. So let’s do a few exercises to warm up.”

Sylia had her trainees go through a few basic warm-up exercises to reduce the chance of injury on the course. The obstacle course was designed to train and reinforce what soldiers would face in the field; also to inspire confidence, to ensure the latter, Sylia was going to run through the course with her trainees.

The obstacle course started pretty easy, jumping over ditches, trenches and low hurdles. For Nene, she fell flat on her face more than once.

Keeping up with the Lt. was going to be a challenge; she was somewhat of a fast runner. At West Point she was on the track team and swim team. Also she jogged every other morning. During her Ranger training she made it part of her routine to run through the obstacle course to keep herself in top form.

“Pull with your arms! Hold with your legs! Come on Romanova, move it!” Sylia instructed. Nene held onto the rope for dear life. She was paralyzed with fear, her body refused to climb up or down, fearing she was going fall 10 feet to the ground.

“I can’t make it, Lt.! I can’t!” Pleaded Nene.

“Nene, you just have a little more to go! Don’t give up!” Sylia encouraged Nene to keep going. Sylia believed she could do it; the trick was getting Nene to believe in herself.

“I can’t! I’m scared!” Nene cried. She was so scared out of her mind; she was in tears.

Walking over to a gym bag, Sylia reached in and pull out an MP-5. She wished there was another way. But her training and experience taught her to use extreme measures for motivation. Being both a trainee and an instructor, Sylia understood why training has to be harsh; one was to see who got what it takes to be a Ranger, second was to simulate conditions soldiers would face in combat. Sylia thought back to her Ranger training, where she was pushed to her physical and mental limits. She remembered losing between 20 to 30 lbs from the long marches with full pack, flak jacket, helmet and weapon. There was exhaustion from sleep deprivation since her instructors altered her normal sleep patterns and periods. It became so unbearable that Sylia nearly gave up. Failure was not an option for her, she made a commitment, and she was determined to become a Ranger. Her body learned to obey her will, no matter how raw her hands and feet got; no matter how bad her body ached. She was not going to fail. I will not allow my trainees to fail. I will train them and they will learn. Sylia thought with the MP-5 in her hand. She pointed the weapon just below Nene’s feet.

Oh my god! Did the Lt. lose her mind?! Nene panicky thought, seeing the Lt. aiming the submachine gun at her.

Pulling the trigger, Sylia fired off several shots. Nene scurried up the rope and onto the platform. “Oh geez! I made it! I made it!” She panted.

“So you said you couldn’t do it, huh?” Sylia said sarcastically resting the top of the gun against her upper arm.

Another obstacle was the inverted rope descent. The object was crawl across a rope over a shallow chasm to the other side. What made this easier for Nene was wearing a safety harness around the lower waist. Sylia was the first to go across, she wrapped her legs around the rope to control her descent, preventing her hands from being burned. The thing Sylia did not like about this obstacle was she had to crane her head to look forward and the blood rushes to her head.

Next Priss, she just pulled herself across with her hands. Then Linna came across much like the Lt. Nene began her trip across. She was beginning to feel confident about halfway across the chasm. Losing her grip, she sped down the rope. She grabbed the rope with both hands to slow down. The friction between the rope and her hands, and caused her hands to burn. She made it across and she was in agony, her hands burning and bleeding.

“Priss, there’s a large, green storage container near the end of the course. There should be a med kit in it,” Sylia ordered. Taking Nene hands, Sylia examined the palms. The burns stretched from the palms to the fingers; the burns broke the skin too there was some bleeding.

Priss came back with a med kit and handed it to Sylia. “How bad is it?” Priss asked

“She burned her hands pretty good. Good enough to make them bleed,” Sylia opened the med kit and took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “Nene this may sting a bit,” Sylia poured the peroxide over Nene’s hands. It didn’t sting, it felt like Nene burned her hands again, even though the peroxide was to clean out the wounds and kill any bacteria in the wounds. Sylia placed the peroxide back in the med kit and took out a jar of surgical jelly to relieve some of the burning.

Nene watched Sylia treat her wounds. Despite being a combat soldier, Sylia had a soft, delicate touch to her hands; Nene discovered when Sylia applied the surgical jelly to her hands. With gentle strokes, Sylia covered Nene’s hands with the jelly without aggravating the burns. Nene remembered when she first met the Lt. her initial impression was she was going to be a hardnosed officer, but Sylia sometimes appeared to be distant, but she was capable of showing considerable compassion.

Putting away the jelly. Sylia took out some gauze and surgical tape. Sylia wrapped the gauze around each of Nene’s fingers and both thumbs, and then applied some tape. Starting from the base of her fingers to her wrists swathe her palms with gauze then use some more tape. “There, you won’t be able to play the piano for a while, but there won’t be any chance of infection. I would recommend that you see Doc, now and then to change the dressing and examine your hands,” Sylia remarked and closed the med kit.

“Thanks Lt. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

“During the rope climb, you pointed a gun at me, when you knew I was having trouble.”

A look of regret came to Sylia’s face. “Nene, I regret what I did, but not for the reason why I did it.”

Annoyed and a hint of disbelief came to Nene, in her mind, what Sylia did was not unjustified, she could have killed her and Sylia was giving her a rational explanation? “Lt. what you did was not only excessive but dangerous. I could have been killed if you didn’t miss.“

“Nene, I missed on purpose and the cartridge was loaded with blanks. I’m going to be very blunt, if you were in combat, you would not have the luxury of taking your time; because in combat the difference of life and death can be measured in seconds,” Sylia explained.

“But Lt. even though I failed basic training, it never got that harsh.”

“Special Ops training does, it was designed to see who can cut it as a Ranger, Green Beret or a SEAL. The training pushes you to your physical and mental limits. I’m doing the same thing, but I don’t want to break you,” Sylia said, she wanted to make it clear to Nene that she didn’t want to be cruel, but she wasn’t going to hold her hand and baby her, Linna or Priss. Her job was to teach them what it takes to survive in combat. “Nene, you’re still a rookie and you’re getting a few lessons from the school of hard knocks. I’m positive that you will improve and grow with experience. I have faith in you, now you must faith in yourself.”

“Okay, Lt. I’ll try my best,” Nene smiled

“That’s all I ask. I’m glad haven’t put you through the SERE course.”

“SERE?”

“It stands for Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape. It’s a required part of training for all trainees in Special Ops, in the event you become a POW; it also has the reputation for the physical and mental abuse you have to endure.”

“Have you been through it, Lt.?”

“Yes, I have. Lets just say it wasn’t a day at the beach,” Sylia said without going into details. Even though the SERE course was not a very pleasant experience, but it was necessary in the event of capture, she had the bruises to prove it. What Sylia had to endure, she won’t put Nene through the SERE until she was ready. “Nene, I feel it would be best if we did some one-on-one training sessions which will include a regular exercise regime, hand-to-hand combat training and some other training. I will warn you it will be tough, long and physically demanding on you; if you decide to quit, I won’t think any different of you. But if you want to go through with this, then I expect you to see this to the end.” With that Sylia stood back on her feet and started to walk away.

“Lt.!”

Sylia stopped but she didn’t face the young NCO.

“I’ll do it! I had a sheltered life because of mom, I want to stand up and see what I’m capable of. My dad always wanted me to try new things riding a bike, basketball anything; my mom always put a stop to it, fearing I was putting my life in danger. She was a basket case when I decided to enlist in the army. That’s why I did so poorly in Basic Training and in hand-to-hand combat, because I hear my mom in the back of my mind.”

Heading for a bench, Sylia sat down and offered a seat to Nene. “Nene, you want to know something? If my mother was still alive, she wouldn’t have approved that I join the army and become a Ranger, she would have wanted me to become a concert pianist, like her; I can play the piano but I had no desire to make it a career out of it,” Sylia said.

“I know the feeling, I love my mom dearly,” Nene sighed, “But sometimes she wants to run my life.”

“My dad also wanted me to follow in his footsteps and become a research scientist, we had a falling out because of that. The only one who let me decide what I wanted to do with my life was my Uncle Robert,” Sylia said, “and the only way I could come to a decision was to ask questions. He told me about the military, the good and the bad, he encouraged me to pursue a career in the military, if I wanted to.”

“Sylia, do you still talk to your parents or your Uncle?”

“No,” Sylia shook her head, “My mother died of cancer when I was young. My father died in a plane crash, we didn’t speak to each other for a year. Then my Uncle died of kidney disease before I transferred to Fort Benning.” Sylia never took the passing of her Uncle well, she could remember perfectly of how proud he was of seeing his niece graduating 5th of her class at West Point, which was no easy feat. Even though lying in a hospital bed, dying, he couldn’t have been prouder of her that she was going to train as a Ranger. She was reminded of her Uncle’s pride in her, in her thoughts and through their mutual friend, General Hawk.

“I’m…. I’m so sorry,”

“It’s okay, I still have my brother,”

“Sylia, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,”

“Do you still remember your mom?”

Sylia smiled and nodded, “Yes I do. I have fond memories of her; she was a beautiful, caring woman. I faintly remember her singing me to sleep as a very young child and playing very beautiful pieces of classical music on the piano. I miss her deeply,” Sylia dried her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she dismissed Nene back to her quarters to freshen up and relax, after lunch, the one-on-one training session will begin. 

Returning to her quarters, Nene sat down on the couch, turning on the TV to the Cartoon Network. Nene always enjoyed the old Warner Bros cartoons like Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny; it was something to make her laugh. While Nene watched Bugs & Daffy outsmarting Elmer Fudd, Linna walked in and headed for her room.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” Linna waved back and smiled. Linna walked into her room and locked the door. Instead of turning on a light, she lit a candle; using the same candle she lit a couple more around the room. Then she turned on a CD player. It played a relaxation CD with sounds of the oceans. Her room was decorated with several Japanese pieces including a small rack holding two Japanese long swords that have been in her family for 800 years. After removing her clothes down to her underwear, Linna sat cross leg on a bamboo mat and began to meditate. It was something her Uncle taught her, it allowed her to deal with the murder of her parents. Also it gave her focus at a task at hand rather than be overcome by doubt and worry, she would be in a state of complete clarity. Also there were things she couldn’t talk about, and the people she killed with her own sword in the black ops she’s done. Usually, Linna was a very open individual, but there were some things she was unable to talk about and meditation seemed to help.

An hour later, Priss stood in line for lunch. She was starving after the obstacle course. “Hey, Priss,” Covergirl got in line behind Priss.

“Hey Covergirl, have any idea what’s for lunch?”

“Yeah chili,” Covergirl regretfully stated, “Hotter than Hell.”

“Cool,” Priss simply retorted. She always had a liking for spicy foods.

“You must have a cast iron stomach,” Covergirl said, surprised at Priss’ response. If she went for seconds, she’s got to be tough.

Immediately after lunch, Sylia and Nene began their one-on-one training session. Nene thought doing basic exercises was bad; her shoulders ached after doing 50 push-ups. The Lt. was a stern taskmaster, she still encouraged her to keep going, but she didn’t make it easy for Nene. The Lt. had Nene go through light to moderate strength training to tone and condition her body get her used to lifting and carrying heavy objects like a rucksack. To build her confidence, Sylia ran the obstacle course with Nene, helping her when she needed it, but still letting her do everything herself. To finish up their session, it was a jog around the track then the showers.

Heading down the one of the halls of the barracks, Sylia still clad in a tracksuit approached General Hawk’s quarters and knocked on the door. Inside, Hawk sat in an easy chair reading a copy of The Maltese Falcon. “Enter,” he responded

“Good evening, sir. I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Sylia said after entering.

“Not at all Sylia,” Hawk smiled, “What I can do for you?”

“I was planning a training exercise in Urban Warfare for my trainees. I want you to be the O/C (Observer/Controller). I want to use GI Joe personnel as friendly and hostile forces.”

“Have you chosen a team leader for both sides?”

“Yes I have, Asagiri and myself. I want to put my trainees up against someone with more experience.”

“Well, Asagiri is going to be in over head. You tend to use unconventional warfare, using traps and other tricks.”

An evil smile crept along Sylia’s face, “I know. It will teach two things, Clayton: expect the unexpected and in combat not everybody plays by the rules,” With that Sylia left.

Hawk chuckled to himself, it was almost like yesterday, when he first met Sylia, she was young and inexperienced as a cadet, but like a mentor watching his pupil; he watched Sylia grow to a determined young woman and a very capable officer. Sometimes, Sylia reminded him of her Uncle who was his best friend; the two have been through hell together and lived to get drunk about it. Hawk could still remember the night Robert died, wrapping his arms around Sylia, comforting her and allowing her a shoulder to cry on. He felt bad, Sylia lost an Uncle and he lost a good friend and soldier. 

Part III a: Urban Warfare

Moving through deserted streets, Priss and her unit made their way to an empty office building. Priss kicked in the door and was the first to enter with her shotgun ready; Covergirl covered Priss with her M-4 rifle. After a quick search Priss gave the all-clear sign. Her team was comprised of herself, Covergirl, Linna, Nene, Gung-Ho and Tripwire. Their primary mission objectives were to rescue the hostages and capture Lt. Stingray. “Alright listen up, this building will serve as our forward base,” Priss stated laying her shotgun on a desk, “Nene set up your communications gear.”

“I’m on it Sarge!” Nene responded, opening a rugged carrying case, Nene took out an MBITR system (Multi Band Intra-Team Radio). The MBITR can communicate on a wide range of frequencies including VHF-FM, VHF-AM, and UHF-AM/FM. The MBITR is also able to track a soldier or a team by GPS (Global Positioning System), since each soldier will be equipped with CSEL (PRQ-7 Combat Survivor Evader Locator system).

Next Nene got her laptop set up with a digital cellular link up with the US Military SATCOM system (SATellite COMmunication) to punch up Intell maps of the area of operations. “Okay we’re online, and I got the intell maps punched up on my computer.”

Gathering everyone around, Priss began her briefing, “Here’s the game plan, we’re going to scout the entire urban area for the enemy’s base of operations,” Priss told her troops, then turned to Linna, “Linna, I want you search for the enemy base on your own, if you find it, contact me of the location. Hopefully we catch them with their pants around their ankles and their asses in the breeze.”

“Got it,”

At an abandoned industrial complex, Lt. Stingray surveyed the installation. The industrial complex was comprised of office buildings, factory and manufacturing plants. The location had its advantages and disadvantages, it had more buildings, and the enemy will have more to search. The problem was it was too big, too much ground for her team to hold down. Sylia’s unit was composed of Duke, Flint, Dial Tone, Leatherneck, Stalker, Grunt, Rock ‘n’ Roll, Clutch and Steeler.

“Stalker, I want the hostages moved to the third office building, they’re vulnerable here in the factory. Have Clutch and Steeler help you.”

“Okay, Lt.”

Reaching for a headset on a desk, Sylia placed it on her head, adjusted the microphone and plugged it into her walkie-talkie, “Dial Tone, what the status of the communications and the surveillance cameras?”

In the main administration building, Dial Tone was running final checks of the security monitors throughout the complex. “We’re almost done, Lt.” Dial Tone replied into his headset.

“Has Mainframe got the UAVs running?”

“Not yet,”

“I want those up in 10 minutes, there is too much ground for us to hold down. Those UAVs will make our job a little easier.”

Stalking the streets, Linna quietly surveyed her surroundings. She was unarmed, relying on her ninja skills and stealth rather than getting into a confrontation. Usually she would have her sword with her, if she needed to take someone out.

She quietly sneaked down several more blocks, then glided into an alley and flattened against the wall when she heard some voices. Once in the clear, she ran for a retracted ladder on a fire escape, Linna leaped and grabbed onto the ladder and pulled herself up. Climbing the fire escape, Linna reached the roof and headed for the opposite end. Pulling out a pair of binoculars, she crouched down behind a guard wall and surveyed the industrial complex ahead of her location. Three office buildings, an administration building and a factory manufacturing plant; seems pretty normal. What the hell? Taking mental notes of the layout of the complex, until she saw something in her field of vision. Security cameras? “Priss, come in,” Linna spoke into her headset.

“Go ahead, Linna,”

“I may have found the enemy base, I saw several security cameras and they appear to be active,”

“Linna, what’s you’re location?”

“Northwest section of the city,”

“Understood, we’re right now in the east section, we’ll try to get to your location ASAP. Stay there, wait for further orders and stay out of sight until we get there.”

“Copy that,” Linna closed her connection.

In the east section of the city, Priss and her unit were searching an abandoned shopping center when Linna called, “Okay people forget this fucking rat hole. Linna may have found where the enemy and the hostages are holed up,” Priss announced, placing a cigarette in her mouth.

“May have? Linnna doesn’t know?” Gung-Ho complained

“Linna saw some security cameras in place and were active. That’s enough for me to suspect that the enemy’s there. So just quit your bitching and get off your ass, Gung-Ho.”

Priss lit her cigarette, and then readied her Desert Eagle 50 caliber Action Express handgun before placing it back in her shoulder harness. Priss carried two other weapons, an M-4 and a pump shotgun. Covergirl came up to Priss, “Priss what Linna saw could be a trap.”

“Possibly, I’m willing to take that chance,” Priss exhaled a cloud of smoke from her mouth and nostrils, “Covergirl, I feel like an officer in this position, and I don’t like officers. I’m most at home as a sergeant.”

“Well, be a sergeant then, but you’re in charge Priss.”

Perhaps Covergirl was onto something, she didn’t need to be an officer to command, and sometimes a simple 3-striped sergeant can be just as effective. Priss never liked or trusted officers sometimes, because to her, they think they know everything and what they learn out of a book or from the classroom is always correct. The only officer that she could respect or trust was Lt. Stingray granted she was West Point educated, but Sylia was a person who would go out on a limb for someone, and put her butt on the frontline with the grunts.

“Okay you goldbricks! What the hell are you standing around for?! This ain’t no church social! Let’s move out!” Priss barked, “Tripwire, I want you on point with me and sweep for mines and don’t try to trip over anything this time,” Priss ordered Tripwire. Priss got a first hand look at Tripwire’s notorious reputation as a klutz, seeing how he tripped over his own feet and nearly fell on Priss and a few other incidence. Much to Priss’ amazement was the time when Tripwire was not clumsy is when he is working with high explosives.

In about an hour later, Priss and her team arrived at the industrial complex. “Linna, this is Priss, we’re at…. What the hell is that?!” Priss exclaimed seeing a flying object with a machine gun.

The object began firing red paintballs at its targets, Gung-Ho and Tripwire were hit as they tried to evade. Priss and Covergirl hid in an alcove for cover. “Romanova! What are those things?!” Covergirl yelled into her headset. The alcove provided the two with some cover.

For the safety of the base, Nene calmly worked, “Hold on I’m punching up the satellite images.” After viewing the attacking object, she accessed a military weapons database. “I have it! It’s a cypher!”

“A what?” Priss screamed over the gunfire.

“A cypher, it’s a UAV, an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle. According to the database, there are two types of cyphers: surveillance and a gun cypher…”

“Nene just cut to the chase will ya’!”

“For a quick take down of a cypher, you have to hit the gun/camera module. I would recommend doing that when you’re out of the cypher’s field of fire.”

The gun cypher began to move away, continuing its patrol pattern. Priss emerged from the alcove and carefully aimed her Desert Eagle at the cypher. Pulling the trigger, Priss fired a blue paintball. Upon impact the blue paint struck the gun module on the gun cypher. The gun cypher retreated back to the complex.

Thank god, this is just an exercise, if we were using live ammo; my sorry ass could have been used as a doorstop. Priss mentally sighed.

“Dial Tone, where they now?” Sylia asked into her walkie-talkie.

Dial Tone watched several security monitors go down indicating cyphers and security cameras were taken out. “I can’t get a fix on their on the enemy’s position, Lt.”

“Very well, Stingray to all personnel, we have a security breach, tighten security and stay alert. The enemy may try to reach the hostages,” Sylia made her way to a wall locker and pulled out a duffel bag and a long black case. Priss better be on her toes for what’s in store for her.

Linna stalked the dark hallway of the 2nd floor of the 3rd office building. No guards? It’s too quiet. There was something wrong. Continuing down the hall, she stopped, taking a closer look, she saw a control box up against the wall. Which meant IR sensors were in place. Picking up a fire extinguisher, Linna fired out a stream of CO2 to reveal the IR sensor beams to confirm her suspicions. Linna got on her stomach and crawled under the beams. But as she got up unknowingly, she didn’t completely clear the beams. Tripping the beams triggered a batch of painted filled C-4 to explode, covering her in paint.

Near the factory, Priss and Covergirl came around the corner of a processing plant. Priss caught the sight of Duke and Flint, their backs to them, walking away. Readying her shotgun, Priss fired off several shots hitting the two.

Hiding within dense bushes in the center of the complex, the sniper readied her PSG-1 rifle, acquiring a bead of Covergirl’s left leg as the two carefully surveyed the area. Her breathing slowed to nonexistent as she kept her gun steady. All other thoughts cleared her mind. At this moment she was a wolf stalking her prey. Time grinded to a halt, waiting for her time to strike. Sweat stung her eyes, but she refused to blink or move, only keeping the crosshairs on her target. With her trembling index finger, she pulled the trigger.

Covergirl stumbled back a few feet before falling on her butt; red paint smeared her left hip. Shit! Sniper! Priss mentally screamed as she ran and ducked behind a low wall. Fuck! Covergirl’s out in the open; the oldest sniper trick to lure me out. The situation brought her back to that day in Kosovo. Her best friend Sylvie was wounded by a sniper and was lying in the middle of that damn minefield. Priss knew her options, either be blown up by a mine or get cut down by the sniper. It was a risk she had to take. She was going to take the same risk and save her friend; hunched down, Priss bolted from her hiding place with sniper firing several shots. Reaching Covergirl, Priss began to drag her out of the open, until a paintball struck her at the heart.

“All right! This exercise is over!” A voice rang through a bullhorn. All the combatants except for Sylia assembled at the center of the complex. General Hawk held a bullhorn at his side as he climbed out of an AWE Striker; also Nene was in the passenger side, and then got out to join with the rest of her unit. “Okay, you can come out of the bushes now,” Hawk said. The sniper rose out of the bushes wearing a ghillie suit and a PSG-1 in her hands. Pulling off her head camouflage, she revealed herself as Lt. Sylia Stingray, her face covered with facial camo paint.

“I’ll be damned!” Priss exclaimed; she rightfully got her butt kicked by a more experienced officer.

“’I must commend you all on the fine work you did. There were some technical flaws you all made but still good work,” Hawk congratulated, “Sgt. Asagiri, when dealing with a sniper, you must first neutralize the sniper before you can make any recovery operation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” 

Part III b: Jump School

Entering her quarters, Sylia dragged her tired body to her room. She untied her boots while sitting on her bed; next she pulled off her socks. Oh thank god, finally a chance to get these boots off! Sylia relished the sweet relief. Removing her fatigues, she pulled her navy blue robe over her shoulders, and then slipped her feet into a pair of low-heeled rabbit fur slippers. By the clothes she wears Sylia was quite wealthy through her father’s nest egg and her own investments, but Sylia never flaunted that fact, it was more of a means to make sure that she and Mackie could live comfortably.

Walking out of her bedroom, she entered the bathroom. After removing her robe and undergarments, she turned on the shower. The warm water felt wonderful against her skin, her muscles began to loosen and relax; washing away the dirt and grime from the urban warfare exercise. She almost felt like a new woman, after she stepped out of the shower, she pulled her robe and slippers back on and picked her underwear off the floor and tossed them into her hamper

Returning to her bedroom, she opened the top left drawer containing some risqué lingerie. Who am I trying to impress? With the life I lead, I don’t have time for a love life. Sylia thought, it was laughable and pathetic at the same time, but sacrifices had to be made. Closing the drawer, she pulled open the top right and took out a pair of light blue silk pajamas.

A few minutes later, Sylia came out of the kitchenette with a can of diet coke. Let’s see what’s on TV. Sylia rhetorically thought, flipping through the channels. What the hell is this? Coming across a program on Comedy Central, not only was the show poorly animated, but the main characters were kids with rather vulgar dialogue and have the bizarre catch phrase, “oh my god! They’ve killed Kenny! You bastards!” Unable to stand anymore of the program known as ‘South Park,’ Sylia changed the channel. That show has brought stupidity to a whole new level. Only a complete moron would watch crap like that, of course the largest demographic for TV is the brainless bastard segment of the population. Continuing to surf, Sylia came across a UPN station. Star Trek Deep Space 9 was on next. Finally something intelligent to watch! It was a good one too, “The Sacrifice of Angels,” the episode where Starfleet retakes DS9 from the Dominion. Sylia by all accounts was not a trekkie, she enjoyed the series and the movies (She hated the fifth movie) and that was it. She seen news footage of those Star Trek conventions, she found those both amusing and disturbing. Amusing, that people would get dressed up as Klingons, Romulans, Borg, Cardassians and Vulcans; disturbing, how intense the debate of who was the better captain. Sylia just sat back and enjoyed the show. 

Priss walked into the gym for a late night workout. After pulling on a pair of boxing gloves, Priss leisurely punched the bag, with a couple of quick jabs and a hard right cross. Taking her aggression and pent up energy out on the punching bag allowed Priss to relax. Growing up in LA, she’s been to those youth-centers, where she learned how to fight. Suddenly she began hitting the bag harder and faster as a flood of memories came to her, memories of teachers and people who ran the orphanage she was in, calling her a failure and will never amount to anything. Hitting the bag harder than before, tears ran from her red eyes, and sweat poured from her brow, the memories were bubbling to the surface. ”I AM NOT A FAILURE!” Screaming from the depths of her soul, with all her anger and rage she punched a hole into the punching bag.

Priss collapsed to her knees emotionally and physically spent, “I am not a failure,” she whispered

“I would hate to be the person who runs into you on a bad day,” someone said.

Looking up, Priss saw Duke examining the busted punching bag. “What are you doing here, Duke?”

“Same reason you’re probably here,” Duke said then glanced at the punching bag, “But not as intense.”

For the next couple of days, Sylia lectured on jumping with a parachute, which entailed how to pack a chute, the HALO and HAHO jumps and emergency procedures. For the hands on training Sylia made arrangements to use the jump school at Fort Campbell.

The Tomahawk touched down on the helipad at Fort Campbell, home of the 101st Airborne, Priss’ former unit. The sun glared right into Sylia’s eyes as she climbed out of the Tomahawk and she pulled her wrap around sunglasses, Priss took out her aviator style sunglasses. There was a jeep waiting for them.

During the drive to the administration building, Sylia caught a glimpse of Priss with a small smile on her lips. “I can venture a guess you’re thrilled to be back with your unit?”

“You could say that Sylia,” Priss laughed.

Arriving at the administration building, Sylia and her trainees headed for the front door. Upon seeing Priss, an officer held the door open, snapped to attention and saluted.

“At ease Captain,” Priss told the officer as she walked in. Sylia, Linna and Nene just exchanged confused glances. Entering the building, a female Staff Sergeant greeted the four. “Lt. Stingray, the Colonel’s expecting you,” the Sgt. told the Lt. then she eyed Priss, “S…S…Sgt. Asagiri!” She stammered, “No one said you were back on the base?”

“I’m with her,” Priss replied pointing her thumb at the Lt.

“If you will follow me please.” Following the Staff Sergeant, Sylia and Company headed for the CO’s office. Sylia told her three charges to make use of the base facilities and stay out of trouble. The latter was also made explicit to Priss.

“Hey, Lt. Tell the Colonel, I said hello,” requested Priss before leaving.

“Lt. Stingray, sir,” Sylia announced to the Colonel. Colonel Roy Campbell was a man in his late forties early fifties with graying brown hair. “Lt.,” he replied, “Are you related to a Robert Stingray?”

“Yes sir, he was my Uncle.”

“How is Robert, anyway?”

A sad expression briefly flashed across her face, “He died of kidney disease 3 years ago.”

Campbell slumped back in his chair. He hasn’t seen Robert since ‘Nam. “I’m so sorry, he was a good man.”

“Colonel, I want to discuss my request to use the jump school.” As much as Sylia loved her Uncle, she found the condolences and the comparisons rather tiring.

Meanwhile Priss, Linna and Nene walked over to the barracks, Priss was assigned to during her time with the 101st. Time to scare the old ground pounders shitless. Nene and Linna watched as Priss kicked in the door. “Hello Boys! I’m back!” Priss announcing her presence to startled occupants. “I’m glad to see you worthless bunch of bastards are still breathing without me having to baby-sit!”

“Well, well, if it isn’t Sgt. Asagiri,”

“Karen Joshua, how the hell are ya’?” Priss greeted her friend. Karen Joshua was a battle harden Sgt. According to Priss, Karen was the 2nd best ass kicker in the 101st. Standing at 5’7” she was inch taller than Priss. She was also slightly more masculine, but still her body drove men wild and possessing a mane of fiery red hair that matched her hot temper.

“Hey Priss!” A nasal voice called out.

Priss turned around to see a thin tall guy; a medium built black man and a rather stupid looking guy. “Grizzly, Blackjack and Lucky Eddie! I see the Army hasn’t thrown you lazy bastards out on your asses!”

“Are you kidding? Where else can you be a bum and get paid for it?” Blackjack stated 

“Come on, I’ll buy you Girl Scout rejects a beer,” Priss smiled to her friends.

At the on base bar called “The Fuel Depot,” with the slogan, “Come in and get loaded.” Priss, her three drinking buddies, Linna and Nene sat at a table laughing at the recounting of Priss’s exploits, Priss jokingly asked the bartender for a hi-chair and a bottle of formula for Nene. “Hey Priss, you remember Lt. Hayden?” Blackjack asked, while Priss took a sip of her beer.

“Oh yeah! I remember that prick! God that guy was an asshole!”

“I remember you ran his underwear up the flagpole,” Grizzly said his nasal voice was more pronounced after consuming two beers.

“Priss you ran an officer’s underwear up the flagpole?” Linna asked her eyes wide with surprise that Priss would do something like that.

“With him in ‘em!” Blackjack included, “I’ll never forget the look on that guy’s face, he was so scared he pissed his pants!” He added with laughter

“Just a question, why do you guys call him Grizzly? He’s not big,” Nene pointed to the beanpole Corporal.

“We don’t call him that because he’s big; because he’s a hairy bastard. Also we don’t call him Lucky Eddie, because he lucky; the guy’s a complete moron. But a good guy to have around.”

“TEN-HUT!” Someone yelled out upon an officer entering the bar. Everyone with the exception of Priss jumped to their feet in attention.

“Come on you guys, the way you five are standing around, you’d think the Pope was stopping by for a beer?” Priss dryly remarked.

“Well then you better bow down and kiss my ring, Priss,” a familiar voice retorted equally as dry as Priss’ last remark and standing right behind her.

“The Lt.’s right behind me isn’t she?”

Linna and Nene only nodded. “Don’t worry about it, she wouldn’t stand to attention regardless being a 5 star general or a mere 1st Lt. walked into the room,” Sylia only gave a dismissive wave as she sat down.

“That’s nothing,” Blackjack chimed in.

“Oh God!” Sylia moaned and rolled her eyes.

“We had this Colonel visit the base for an inspection, during roll call, ol’ Priss wore a bathrobe and was suffering from a hangover. This Colonel nearly had a heart attack when he looked into a footlocker Priss was using as a beer-cooler. Hell, the Sarge’s been thrown into stockade so many times, that the MP’s called her usual cell the presidential suite; because she was allowed a more comfortable bed, cable, beer even the guards went out for Pizza or Chinese and played poker with her,” Grizzly said to the Lt.

Sylia shot a threatening glare at Priss who was grinning about her escapades. “Priss, if you ever try to pull that kind of shit with me; you’d better put your head between you legs and kiss your ass good-bye.”

“Come on Lt. would I do that to you?” Priss asked trying to look completely innocent.

“I don’t want to go there.”

Looking at his watch, Blackjack jumped out of his chair. “Whoa! We gotta go. We gotta be on duty in 10 minutes or Karen will have us on latrine duty. Grizzly, Lucky Eddie, let's go!”

“Hey, maybe latrine duty won’t be too bad this time?” Lucky Eddie asked as his two friends carried him out by his arms.

“Come on you idiot!” Blackjack shot back, “I swear you got more guts than brains to piss off Karen, Lucky Eddie.”

After the departure of Priss’ drinking buddies, Sylia turned to her trainees.

“Well, Lt., are we allowed to use the jump school?” Priss asked

“Yes, in one hour we’re going to jump.”

“How long are we going to be on base?” Linna asked

“Just for one week. In that week you three will learn about HALO and HAHO jumps, and night jumps.”

Taking off from a C-130, Sylia and her trainees made final preparations and checked their equipment before making their jump. “Now remember the HALO jump is where the most fatalities occur. Do not allow your head to snap back or you’ll crack your skulls on your tanks. Also don’t panic.”

Opening the cargo bay doors, the four got ready to jump. First Priss, then Linna, Nene and finally the Lt.. The light switched from red to green indicating time to jump. After Priss and Linna jumped, it was Nene’s turned. “Uh, Lt. can I sit this one out, I got this sudden fear of heights,” Nene sheepishly asked.

“Nene, you can either jump out or I can throw you out. Your choice,” Sylia bluntly stated.

Given her two only option, she opted to jump out. Stepping up to the edge of the open cargo bay, Nene gave hard swallow as she leaped out of the C-130, then the Lt. jumped after her. Nene desperately tried to resist the urge to puke as she fell towards earth. 

Pulling her ripcord, Nene gently glided down to the ground. After the Lt. touched down, she removed her crash helmet and oxygen mask. “Well, I see everyone made it in one piece.”

“Lt.?”

“Yes Nene,”

“You wouldn’t have a barf bag on you?” Nene asked her face turning a very interesting shade of green.

Reaching into a leg pocket on her jumpsuit, she produced a barf bag and handed it to Nene.

“Oh god! I think I’m going to be sick!” Was all Nene could say before she puked her guts into the bag.

“Better make that more or less, Lt.,” Priss pointed out as Nene lost more of her lunch.

The training went on with Night HALOs and water insertions by air. Normally this took 6 weeks of training but Sylia was giving them a crash course; after a few days of rest, the next part of training was going to stress teamwork and survival in the mountains, desert, jungles and arctic tundra.

“Would you care for some more wine, Sylia?” Hawk offered with a bottle of white wine in his hand.

“Please,” Sylia politely answered. Earlier in the day, just a day after Sylia and her trainees returned from Fort Campbell, Hawk asked her if she could be his guest for dinner in his quarters. Even though there were regulations against fraternization and it was inappropriate for a senior officer to be involved with a junior officer. But Sylia and Hawk only considered each other as friends. But they also knew the rumor mill will be putting out late breaking rumors.

“How’s the training coming along?” Hawk asked, filling Sylia’s wine glass halfway.

“They’re coming along fine,” Taking a small sip from her wine glass, savoring the flavor. “I say another three months tops.”

The two spent the next hour and a half talking about work, Sylia recounted Priss’ exploits in the 101st, advising him when either of them are off base, watch her like a hawk. “Sylia let’s forget about work right now. How’s your brother?”

“He’s fine. Doing quite well at MIT. Of course, if I did catch wind of him spending his time partying and chasing girls, not only would he be paying his own way through college, I’d kick his sorry ass; and having an older sister in the Rangers, that’s not an idle threat.”

“No, I guess not. All things considering, you two didn’t turn out so bad. Most kids with your type of childhood would be behind bars.”

“Well, Uncle Robert did keep an eye on us and was always there for us. When he was not there, I had to take care of Mackie.”

After sipping the last of the wine in his glass, he felt compelled to tell Sylia something he never told Robert and Hawk was his best friend. He got up, walked over to a small table to retrieve a picture. “Do you recognize this picture, Sylia?” Hawk asked, handing Sylia a silver frame photograph.

“Yes, it’s a picture of my Uncle Robert and my mom at her wedding.”

Hawk only nodded

“You were in love with her weren’t you?” It was rather simple deduction, almost like connecting the dots.

“Yes, I was,” a sad tone was in his voice, hinting there was more to it, than innocent infatuation. “I first met your mother at a classical music concert in New York with your Uncle. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful or elegant than your mother.” Hawk further explained as time went on, the feelings were more emotional than hormonal in nature. But when she married Dr. Stingray, Hawk kept his distance and his feelings towards Sylia’s mother to himself out of respect of his friendship between himself, Robert and his sister and not cause any damage to the marriage of Sylia’s parents. But when Hawk heard she was dying of cancer, he knew he needed to see her one last time. “Even though I loved your mother; the marriage would have never worked.”

“Why?”

“Because, I don’t think your mom would have liked being an Army wife. Following me to every posting and the long hours spent apart; also it would derail her career as a concert pianist.”

A small smile came to Sylia’s lips as she gave Hawk’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Clayton, what you did, took a lot courage considering your feelings. Even though your feelings for my mom, you didn’t get in the way of her being happy. That’s why you are such a good friend.” Sylia smiled and gave Hawk a small kiss on the cheek, “Good night Clayton.”

Tossing and turning, Linna fitfully slept while being plagued by a nightmare. Her eyes darted around under her eyelids indicating the deepest stage of REM sleep. Her mind bombarded by memories of her mother being mugged at gunpoint, her father coming to her defense; the shots ripping through their bodies, blood spilling all over the sidewalk and looking straight into their daughter’s eyes with a soul freezing stare.

Bolting upright, she eyes shot open. Her breathing was sharp and ragged, covered in sweat and her sweat soaked clothes and sheets adhered to her body. “Mom, Dad!” She hugged her knees against her chest. Resting her forehead on her kneecaps and quietly wept.

Kicking off her high heels and breathed a sigh of relief, as Lady J turned on the TV on the off chance for anything good on. Lady J relished the afterglow of her date with Flint, she wore a very expensive dress she bought in Hong Kong; she needed a wrench to screw his eyes back in his sockets when he saw the slit in her dress. “Hey Sylia,” she greeted when Sylia entered.

“Lady J,” Sylia replied then took notice of her roommate’s dress, “Did Flint die a happy man or were the paramedics able to bring him back after seeing you in that dress?”

Lady J only laughed, “It was interesting. Put in some overtime at the office?”

“No, I had dinner with General Hawk,”

“You two are becoming an item,” Lady J smiled as Sylia sat down.

“Hardly. It’s against regulations, also it would present a conflict of interest. Besides I don’t have the time for a love life.”

A serious expression came to Lady J’s face more out of concern for her friend, “Sylia do you ever listen to yourself? Look, I’m your friend, you need to let your hair down once in a while and relax.”

“Sometimes I’m afforded the opportunity but something always comes up,” Sylia stated, which was a half-truth, it was annoying when she is allowed to relax something ends up derailing it. But, she does put her job at top priority even ahead of physical and mental maintenance.

“Sylia, I’ve seen you work, you put in sometimes 12 hours a day in your office, then you’re here still working till the early hours of the morning.”

“Being chief of Intelligence entails a lot of paperwork,” Sylia said, but she had to know Lady J was right about her working too much.

“Sylia, you shouldn’t work yourself to death. On your next day off, how about seeing a movie with Scarlett and myself, sort of a girls night out.” Lady J offered.

“Perhaps. But remember, I am not a fan of romance movies.”

“I remember, when the three of us watched Titanic. Scarlett and I were crying our eyes out and you were sound asleep.”

“I couldn’t help it, the movie was a great sedative,” Sylia laughed, “unlike ‘Hunt for Red October.’ Which was an okay movie, I liked the book better, but I also enjoyed Sean Connery and Sam Neil in the movie.”

Lady J could only shake her head, “What so great about Tom Clancy?”

“He’s such a marvelous writer. His novels contain hyper accurate details of the military and the CIA just to name a few. After I read The Red Storm Rising, I just wanted to read more of his books.” Besides the works of Tom Clancy, Sylia also found enjoyment in the Sherlock Homes stories; it was amazing to develop a character that can come to precise and detailed conclusions just by observing the smallest detail. Also Sylia got a kick out of pulp fiction detective novels like Mike Hammer, Raymond Chandler and such. She could remember sitting in her English classes through out high school bored to tears reading Johnny got his gun, The Kitchen God’s wife and such books that convey a message or just outright boring.

In the passing weeks, the training became more intense. Enlisting Alpine, Sylia used the Colorado Rockies as the setting for training in mountain operations. It took Priss and Nene a while to get used to the cold weather and the thin air at higher altitudes. Linna on the other hand, her previous martial arts training taught her to tolerate the harshest conditions.

During Arctic warfare training, Nene instigated a snowball fight. Sylia couldn’t remember the last time she had a good laugh after she watched Nene pelting Priss with a snowball. But the three joined forces and let the Lt. have it.

Desert survival training was hell on earth in the middle of Death Valley no less. Priss had to slap herself a couple times from seeing mirages. Nene could have sworn she had sand in places she didn’t even know she had. As for Linna she took everything in strides.

Jungle warfare just sucked. Marching through the jungle, and it was hot and humid. Sylia was allergic to insect repellent, and supply didn’t have a special repellent that won’t aggravate her allergies. So she had a choice either be covered in bug bites or constantly sneeze. Recondo who was assisting Sylia with the jungle training, had to ask if everyone was having fun, the reply from Priss exemplify the opinion of the other three, “Up yours.”

After jungle training, Linna, Priss and Nene met Sylia in her quarters after they spent a couple hours in the shower getting themselves as clean as possible after spending 2 weeks in the jungle. “I have some good news, your training‘s over. So I should entitle you to a graduation or something,” Sylia said carrying four glasses and a bottle. “I’ve been saving this bottle of 15 year old scotch for a special occasion. It was a gift, when I graduated from West Point,” She added, pouring the liquor into each of the four glasses.

Each of them took a glass. “Here’s to us. Here’s to the…. We haven’t thought of a name for our unit,” Sylia said. Of course it was a small detail in the grand scheme of things but it was important to give the unit a name.

“So what shall we call our unit?” Sylia asked

“How about the Nightstalkers?”

“Nene, that’s been used already,” Priss retorted

“The Fantastic Four?”

“Linna, two words copyright infringement,” Nene said fearing they could be sued.

That’s not two words it’s a sentence.”

“What about Cobra?” Nene suggested, which prompted a wide eye response from her teammates. “What?”

“That’s the enemy, you moron!” The three said in unison

The debate raged on by Priss, Linna and Nene throwing out suggestion and having them brutally shot down. Sylia thought of a name on her own. “How about the Knight Sabers?”

“We’ll drink to that,” Priss stated, she liked it along with Linna and Nene.

“Then, here’s to the Knight Sabers,” Sylia raised her glass in a toast.

Drinking the scotch, Sylia savored the rich taste. Pretty smooth. Next order of business was codenames. “Well, now that we got the unit name out of the way. Now to issue codenames,” Sylia said, reaching for a clipboard off the coffee table. “Okay Priss, your codename is Wolf.”

“Cool,”

“Linna, you’re Dagger.”

Linna only nodded

“And Nene, you’re Cypher.”

“Seems appropriate,” Nene said taking a small careful sip of her scotch.

“Hey, Sylia what’s your codename?” Priss asked, and then gulped her drink.

“My codename is Grey Fox,” Sylia replied.

A couple days later, Sylia and Linna were browsing through a DVD section of a Best Buy in New York. Mackie’s birthday was coming up in a couple of days and Sylia wanted to get him something nice.

“Do you think your brother would like this, Sylia?”

Sylia looked a DVD marked Dirty Pair in Linna’s hand. “I think he would like this. He said he had in interest in anime” Sylia remarked, personally some anime left her cold because some bordered on the weird and others she was indifferent to. “Linna hand me Vol 1 of Dirty Pair and a volume of the DVD marked Lupin the 3rd TV series.”

After paying for the DVDs, Sylia and Linna walked down the street towards a hobby shop.

“Okay ladies, hand over everything of value,” a mugger appeared from an alley with a gun in his hand. “Just hand over your money,” he said lunging forward for Sylia’s purse. Allowing him to grab her purse, Sylia got the mugger close to knee him in the groin. Ramming her knee into his crotch, the mugger stumbled back in pain and pointing his gun at Sylia. “You goddamn bitch!”

Quickly, Linna got behind the mugger and grabbed his gun arm and applied pressure. The mugger’s face twisted with pain as Linna was about to break his arm. “Drop the gun!” Linna demanded, but his grip was still tight around the gun. “Drop the gun or I’ll break your arm!” Linna applied more pressure up to the breaking point. Finally the mugger dropped his gun. The mugger held his injured arm once Linna released it. “Now get out of here!” Linna ordered, the mugger picked up his gun and got the hell out of Dodge.

“Good work,” Sylia congratulated Linna.

“Normally I’m not a violent person, but something just kicked in.” Linna helplessly watched her parents get murdered; she wasn’t going to stand by and watch Sylia suffer the same fate as her parents.

“Most combat soldiers develop a 6th sense about dangerous situation and through training it becomes second nature.”

Linna knew all that, it felt reassuring to hear someone else say that. There were some missions Linna had conducted where she had to rely on that 6th sense in order to survive.

Back on base Priss and Covergirl were over going last minutes details for a highly dangerous mission. “Okay, Covergirl let’s see if we’ve got everything,” Priss said, running down the list, “Let’s see hammer, nails, shipping crate. That’s everything.”

“Priss let me get this straight, you have this crate addressed to Iraq?”

“It’s for an old friend in Baghdad. Now let’s get to work.” Priss said as the two walked out both carrying the disassembled shipping crate. This mission was underway, but Covergirl was a little worried about the trouble they might get into.

In the model section of a hobby shop in New York, Sylia and Linna were looking for an ideal gift for Mackie. An expert grade VF-1S Valkyrie model, huh? Linna mused. Looking at the box, it was highly detailed, including putting together the internal structure with multiple points of articulation and external armor. This model could take a while to build. Linna picked up expert grade kits of the VF-1S Valkyrie, the SDF-1 Macross. “Sylia, maybe your brother would like one of these?”

“I might as well get all three, these will keep him off the streets for a while.”

An hour later Priss and Covergirl wheeled the shipping crate towards the mailroom. “How much do you think it will cost to ship this?” Covergirl asked

“Beats me?”

“Hello, Priss, Covergirl,” greeted Sylia, Linna was right behind her carrying a shopping bag with Mackie gifts. “What’s in the crate?”

“Gift for a friend,” Priss replied.

“Oh,”

The crate began to rock violently almost like someone was banging it from the inside. “LET ME OUT OF HERE!” A voice screamed from inside the box.

“Let you out of where?”

Peering out of an air hole, a finger searched around. “I’M BOXED IN?!” exclaimed the voice.

“Please don’t tell me you got Beachhead in there?” Sylia worried, when recognizing the voice inside from in the box.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE YOU ANIMALS!”

“You do,” Sylia sighed, “Just out of curiosity, where were you two planning to ship Beachhead?”

“To Saddam,” Covergirl weakly said, her eyes looking towards the ground.

“To Saddam? Holy shit, that’s too cruel!” Sylia exclaimed, ready to bust a gut laughing.

“For Beachhead?” Covergirl asked

”No, for Saddam. I know we hate the bastard. But what did he do to deserve being given Beachhead?” To Sylia this whole situation was just too funny, Beachhead being shipped to Iraq. “Linna take the bag to my quarters, then find a crowbar and some volunteers to spring Beachhead, I want him in my office,” Sylia told Linna before turning to Priss and Covergirl, “As for you, Beavis and Butthead, in my office now.” 

About an hour and half later, Sylia listened to the whole series of events of how Priss and Covergirl managed to crate Beachhead in his sleep. Beachhead also complained, he could have suffocated, but Priss told him that’s why she put in air holes; also she placed a couple shreds of lettuce and a carrot, also some shredded newspaper in case he had an accident. During this Gung-Ho and Leatherneck had to hold him down to keep him from killing the two pranksters. During this Sylia managed to stay collected and objective, even though it was funny as hell. “Priss, Covergirl for your prank on Beachhead, I’m sentencing you two 3 weeks of KP duty. Dismissed.”

“Damn! 3 weeks of KP, 3 weeks of peeling potatoes….” Priss complained as she began peeling another potato.

“3 weeks of dishpan hands….” Covergirl included

“3 weeks in the last place I’d want to be in.”

“Do you think it was worth it?” Covergirl asked her partner in crime.

“Oh hell yeah!” Priss evilly smiled. The two laughed at their situation. It was worth being put on KP duty.

“It sounds like you two are having too much fun in there?” The cook bellowed from the kitchen, “Maybe you two should help me make dinner?”

“No thanks, I don’t want to be an accessory to mass food poisoning!” Priss shot back, “Interesting isn’t it, when Roadblock is cooking it’s a 4 star meal, when that home-econ washout is cooking, its low grade dog food.”

“Please, let’s not offend Order or Junkyard. Those mutts wouldn’t eat this food either.”

“You two may not see it but I’m making a gesture over here!” The cook yelled.

“Shall I kick his ass?” Priss asked Covergirl, while cracking her knuckles.

“Sure. Not only will you be indebted to everyone here including the rats, but Hawk may just give you the Medal of Honor.”

Reclining back in her seat, Sylia gave out a relaxed sigh, as she closed her eyes, but had a hard time sleeping. Last two days on base before she went on leave for Boston to visit Mackie on his birthday, erupted into utter chaos, first she and Duke were nearly victims of hit and run during a wheelchair race in the infirmary. Priss was tracking down Nene and Airtight with the intent to kill them for switching her music CDs with Brittany Spears and covering her bedroom wall-to-wall with the fore mentioned no-talent broad. When Sylia saw Priss on the warpath, it was best to just get the hell out of her way and just read about it at the court martial. Then she had to break up one of the many fights between Leatherneck and Wetsuit; during the fight, Wetsuit missed punching Leatherneck and socked her in the stomach.

She was glad to get out of that nut farm before she ended up in the hospital. After landing at Logan International, Sylia picked up luggage, rented a car and checked into a hotel. She lied down on the bed, misjudging how tired she was, and she was out like a light. She was past exhausted, she was running on fumes; Sylia could thank god the training of her Knight Sabers was over. Also she made a mental note about seeing Doc for a mild sedative to help her get some sleep. Sylia could be really hard on herself, constantly pushing herself to her limits and beyond just to get a job done; but it has been far too long since she had a decent vacation, and right now she only had a two day pass to visit her brother.

Waking up, she looked at her digital watch, which read 1600 hours. It wasn't her to sleep for two hours in her uniform, but there were times where she didn’t sleep for a week straight because of the sorties and the paperwork afterwards. She walked over to bathroom to grab a quick shower. Then she opened her suitbag, wondering just to keep wearing her dress greens or wear something a little more casual. To hell with it, I’ll just wear my dress greens. Before leaving her room, she checked she had her cell phone and PDA with her.

Approaching MIT, Sylia took notice that some of Memorial Drive was blocked off by police in riot gear, screaming protestors trying to break down the barricades and storm the dorms. “Excuse me Ma’am!” An officer called out walking towards Sylia’s car.

“May I help you officer?” Sylia responded after rolling down her window.

“Due to the problems we’re having, the school wants us to check IDs.” 

“Certainly,” Sylia pulled out her military ID and handed it to the police officer.

With ID in hand, the officer shined in his flashlight over it, then handed it back to her. “Here you go Lt. If I may ask what business do you have on campus?” The officer asked handing Sylia her ID.

“I’m here to see my brother. He’s a student here.”

Allowing her on campus, Sylia headed for the dorm Mackie stayed in. Once finding a parking space, Sylia took the shopping bag containing her brother’s gifts. Walking into the reception area, Sylia approached the front desk. “Excuse me?”

The student looked up from her magazine and at the Lt. Not everyday when someone walks in wearing a military uniform and a beret. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, can you direct me to Mackie Stingray’s room, please?”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m his sister,”

“2nd floor, room 12b at the end of hall,” The student answered in a monotone voice, going back to her magazine and blowing off Sylia.

Rude individual, Sylia mentally noted, she just shook her head, heading for the stairs. It’s sad that no one is taught common courtesy anymore. Reaching the top of the stairs, Sylia looked up and down the hall, seeing which way to go. Going up the hall, Sylia reached room 12b and knocked on the door. 

A short blond kid opened the door; looking at Sylia, he was shocked, seeing the beautiful, well built uniformed Lt. “Is there something I can do for you,” he said, implying a double meaning.

“Is Mackie Stingray in?” Sylia asked

“Yeah, he’s in,” He told the Lt. “Hey, Mack! A good-looking babe is at the door for you! You lucky bastard, you’ve been holding out on me!” Mackie’s roommate yelled.

Mackie exited his room and got to the front door, wondering what all the fuss was. “Sis?” He asked, seeing his sister at the door.

“Hello Mackie,”

“Whoa! Wait a minute, Mack, she’s your sister?”

Mackie nodded, “Steve, this is my sister Lt. Sylia Stingray,” Mackie showed Sylia to his room. Inspecting her brother’s room, it was in somewhat of a state of disarray, empty soda bottles strewn about, the clothes hamper was overflowing, textbooks and class related materials covered the desk. On his nightstand next to his bed had a lamp and a picture of their parents and another of Sylia and him before Sylia went to Fort Benning. Next to the nightstand was hobby table with a model Mackie was currently working.

“Sis, I wasn’t expecting you to visit. I would have cleaned up,” Mackie said and grabbing a chair for Sylia.

“Mackie, I’ve seen your room at home, there I don’t know whether to hire a maid or the Army Corp of Engineers,” Sylia said wryly, “Besides, I figured you did not want to spend your birthday alone,” her tone was little more sincere, “Also I wanted to make up for my cancelled leave.”

“Sis,” Mackie felt touched, usually, everything including Mackie took a backseat to Sylia’s job, “I thought you would be too busy?”

That last remark felt like a dagger was being driven in to her, hearing her brother say that. “Mackie, I know my duties are important to me. But you are just as important and I’ll always be there for you.” Sylia smiled, rising from her chair. “I love you Mackie and you’re important to me and nothing will change that,” Sylia wrapped her arms around her brother.

“I love you too, Sis,” Mackie returned Sylia’s affections, but he winced in pain when he pressed his body against Sylia

“Mackie? Are you all right?” Sylia was concerned when she saw Mackie holding the left side of his ribcage.

“Yeah, I cracked a couple of ribs. I was coming out of the robotics building and some of those eco-freaks attacked me with a baseball bat. I notified Dr. Raven, but I didn’t want you to worry, fearing you could have been on a mission.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Anyway,” Reaching into her bag, Sylia pulled several gift wrapped packages, “Happy birthday Mackie.”

Mackie took the gifts and began opening. “Thanks Sis, I wanted to pick up some expert grade Macross models, but the local model shop only had the Zentradi Regult Battlepod and Officer’s (Glaug) Battlepod kits and those were for beginners.” Mackie was pleased at his gifts even more when Sylia was able to find a kit of the SDF-1. Mackie was a bigger fan of Science Fiction than his sister; where as Sylia enjoyed Star Trek, Mackie got a kick not only from Star Trek, but Babylon 5, Macross, and the Transformers. Much to Sylia’s relief, he wasn’t a hardcore fan unlike some of those Star Wars fans. Of course she found escape in those movies, she did not base her life around it. She could only wonder why some people would camp out in front of a theater well ahead of the release date of the movie.

“I hope you like your gifts, Mackie.”

“I do. You might like Macross, Sis, it’s a pretty good Sci-Fi series.”

“Perhaps.

Later on, Mackie showed his sister one of the best steak houses in Boston. Located at the top of corporate high-rise. He only ate there once with some friends, it was also a place he was unable to go to on a student's expenses. Thankfully, Sylia was with him, she made a very last minute reservation with a 500-dollar bill incentive; also that was an insurance policy for excellent service. Sylia neatly draped her jacket on the chair and placed her beret under one of the epaulets. Both Sylia and Mackie ordered a T-bone steak, but for Sylia she was having a cup of coffee and Mackie a Dr. Pepper.’

Mackie finally got a good look at his sister. He could tell Sylia was very tired and worn out, it looked like she hasn’t slept well in days or even weeks “You look tired, Sis.”

“I feel tired. No, I am tired. It’s been a long couple of months. I need a good long rest.”

“Did you get any sleep on the plane?”

“Not really.”

“Oh yeah, I remember you could never sleep on a moving vehicle,” Mackie mentioned. Mackie was right Sylia could never sleep on a moving vehicle, ever since West Point. During her second year, during a training exercise, Sylia decided to get some sleep; but she went down in a chopper accident, she survived along with a few number of other cadets, but the pilot and crew were killed. She spent a few months in traction afterwards. “I’m worried Sis. If you keep pushing yourself the way you do, you going suffer a lot stress related health problems or suffer a nervous breakdown.”

“My roommate back at the base made almost the same comment, she was worried because I work up to 12 hours a day in my office even skipping meals, then I returned to my quarters and work till 4 in the morning.”

“Sis, you need a long vacation. Why not go to Hawaii or someplace nice?”

“I intend to Mackie, but I want to clear my schedule first.”

“Sis, if you don’t take a vacation, the only thing you’ll be clearing your schedule is for your funeral, for working yourself to death.”

“So how is everything at MIT?”

“Fine, some of my engineering professors were interested my designs for a powered exoskeleton.”

Sylia arched an eyebrow; this did perk her interest for the possible combat applications. But her analytical mind was running possible scenarios of terrorists acquiring that kind of technology.

“I’ve also been getting job offers for after I graduate. Mostly from defense companies and a company called DARPA.”

“DARPA is not a company, Mackie.”

“No?”

“No. DARPA is the Research and Development organization within the Department of Defense. They handle project and theories that might have possible military applications but are too radical for legitimate civilian research,” Sylia explained, taking a sip from her coffee. “Mackie, what are those protesters doing at MIT?” Sylia asked her voice taking a more business like tone.

Swallowing hard, Mackie felt like Sylia was going to pump him for information. Combined with those nuts attacking him and his sister being in Army intelligence, maybe Sylia could do something. “The protesters are some environmental group called the ELA.”

“ELA? Earth Liberation Army?”

“You’ve heard?”

“Only from news reports and intelligence sources. They’re a radical environmental group, basically eco-terrorists who had either been suspected or convicted of terrorist attacks across the United States in the name of the environment. Those people would make Greenpeace look like a bunch of Cub Scouts.”

“These nuts want total abolishment of technology for a lifestyle of harmony with nature.”

Sylia had to laugh, “Self deluded fools. For what they demand, medical science would go back to the days where leeches were used; we would not have easy and instant access to information; economies would collapse all for the sake of wearing fig leaves and growing vegetables. Personally that is too high a price to pay.”

“You would probably hate this, they want total disbanding of the military,” Mackie said, Sylia nearly choked on her coffee hearing that.

“Total disbanding of the military?!” She gasped, “That is highly unrealistic, when peaceful means of ending a conflict fail or our National Security in threatened; the military is needed for the wars we have to fight. Disarming our Armed Forces is like allowing the inmates control of the prison, terrorist organizations or rogue nations would walk all over us,” Sylia was a student of military history, she knew the importance of the military throughout history, whether the military got complacent or demobilized too quickly there were always backlashes. “Onto another subject, General Abernathy sends his best and wishes you a happy birthday.”

“I don’t remember him?”

“You only met twice,” Sylia said before taking a small bite from her steak. “Once when he visited Uncle Robert and the other was at Uncle Robert’s funeral.”

“You probably know him better.”

“Not only is he my CO, but my friend. I can always go to him for advice or need someone to talk to. I owe Clayton a lot, he helped me get over Uncle Robert’s death and a few other low points.”

“Sis, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever heard of GI Joe?”

“Yes,” Sylia simply replied, “They’re an elite counter terrorism unit comprised of all four branches of the military, mainly Special Ops.”

“I can picture you in that unit, Sylia.”

“What make you think, I’m not already?”

“What are you saying, Sis?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything before, and I’m not saying anything now,” Sylia said with a rather mysterious smile, her statement wasn’t the truth nor was a lie.

An hour after dinner, Sylia drove Mackie back to his dorm. “Sylia thank you for dinner.”

“My pleasure, Mackie. I’m glad you had a good time. But I’m sorry this was a short visit, but I’m due back on base tomorrow afternoon.” 

Pulling up to the dorms, Sylia stopped allowing Mackie to get out, “Sis, I’m glad we could visit each other again. Take care Sylia,” Mackie closed the door and headed back to the dorm, but he stopped to watch his sister driving away, leaving him wondering when he was going to see his sister again.

At LaGuardia Airport, the following day, Scarlett glanced at her watch; she sat at the American Airline gate waiting for the Lt.’s flight to come in. She wore a blue loose neck sweater that hugged the curves of her slim figure, and jeans. Her sunglasses sat on the crown of her head and her long red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. “Sylia!” Scarlett called out as she saw Sylia walk out into the terminal.

“Shanna,” Sylia greeted Scarlett by her friend’s first name since they were out in public.

“How was your trip?”

“It was good except I had to sit next to an idiot who snored during the flight back here; I had stuff earplugs into my ears so I can concentrate on the book I was reading, on the same flight I was bumped from 1st class to coach.”

Scarlett just gave Sylia a warm smile and the two headed for the baggage pick up. “Come on Sylia, let’s get you back to base.”

Grabbing her suitbag, which was Sylia only piece of luggage besides her briefcase she used to carry a couple books on the flight. In the parking structure the two approached Scarlett’s ’98 Ford Mustang convertible. 

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Sylia asked as she pulled on her wrap around sunglasses. Scarlett pushed a button on the dashboard to open the top of the convertible as she pulled out of the airport parking structure. As usual New York traffic was a nightmare, especially with all the cabbies out in force. But she knew some shortcuts.

“Well?” Scarlett blushed

“Oh god!” Sylia feared the worse. Either Cobra Commander decided to pay them a visit or worse Priss was up to something that landed her in the brig.

On the drive back to the base, Scarlett told Sylia about an incident where Shipwreck conned Nene into hacking DirecTV for an illegal hookup to the adult channels for the Rec Room TV. When Duke saw this he was pissed, both Shipwreck and eventually Nene were thrown into the stockade. She didn’t have a clue what was going on and Shipwreck was just feeding her a line. Hawk was holding off on punishing Nene since she was Sylia responsibility.

“You’re that last person I would imagine ending up in the stockade,” Sylia said as she looked at Nene behind bars. “Dear, sweet, innocent Nene,” she added.

“I wonder how am I going to explain this to my parents?”

“You’ll find a way,” Sylia opened the cell door, “Come on I’ll spring you out of the slammer. Beside Scarlett told me everything,” She gave Nene a smile, and held the door open for her.

As the two headed down the hall for the exit, they passed buy Shipwreck’s cell, “Hey Lt. can you free a comrade in arms?” He asked with a grin of confidence.

“Nene go on ahead, I want to speak to Shipwreck,” Nene happily headed for the exit, leaving Sylia and the lecherous old sea fart alone.

“So how about it?”

“You’re just lucky Duke got to you first. I’m sick and tired of your sordid escapades. If you pull that kind of shit with Nene again or my other subordinates. I’ll convene a firing squad! Have I made myself clear, sailor?”

“Aye, aye Lt.” Shipwreck replied, he had a feeling that he was very close to pissing off Sylia. Sometimes Sylia will make empty threats, but the thought of them got the point across; but whether she acted on those threats, it was best not to find out.


	4. Enter Cobra Commander

Part IV: Enter Cobra Commander

In a manufacturing center on Cobra Island, Cobra Commander watched from an observation bay above the factory floor, from his vantage point he could oversee Techno Vipers working on the main floor putting together humanoid shaped robots. “Sir, Commander Sahalin is here to see you, he’s waiting in the factory office.”

Wordlessly, the Commander walked out of the observation bay, and headed down the hall to the factory office. Commander Ginias Sahalin was a tall, thin man, with blond hair. He was one of Cobra’s best weapons developers, a bit eccentric that some would say borders on insanity, but he was smart as hell. Maybe too smart for his own good.

“Cobra Commander, I’m pleased that you were able to see me,” Ginias said as he stood to attention.

“Yes, Dr. Mindbender had informed me of your interesting proposal,” Cobra Commander started off, “but I’m hesitate to provide funding unless the technology is feasible. I’m not going to throw good money away on a dead end project.”

“Commander, I can assure you the project could work with currently existing technology.”

“The optimum word is ‘could,’ Sahalin. I’ll grant you funding for your project and send you to our Southeast Asia base to work. But remember I expect results or I’ll yank the plug on this venture,” hissed the Commander.

“Thank you Cobra Commander,” Ginias bowed his head slightly. Walking down the hall, Ginias’ face took a darker expression. You want results, Commander? You will see first hand the end results of this project too bad you won’t live long enough to benefit from it.

Passing the weapons scientist in the hall, Scrap Iron caught a glimpse of the dark expression on his face before entering the office. “Commander, I don’t trust Ginias. From what I’ve heard about him, he seems to have his own agenda. I just passed him the hall, and I felt uneasy.” Scrap Iron explained to the Commander in usual raspy voice.

“Hmm. I just granted him to commence with his project seems pretty important to him,” The Commander replied placing his hand under want passed for his chin on his faceplate. “If what you’re saying is true then I’ll appoint an overseer to keep an eye on Sahalin and report directly to me about the status of the project.” Cobra Commander can be very cautious about threats to him especially within Cobra, but he does not want to tip his hand. With Sahalin, the Commander will have to keep things very quiet.

Returning to the Terrordrome, the Commander adjourned to his private dining room. Before he called for his dinner, a female Crimson Guard entered. “Ah! Cynthia!” The Commander greeted.

Cynthia was a tall, slim figured woman who wore the standard Crimson Guardsman uniform minus the helmet. Her blond hair was wrapped into a conservative bun. “You wished to see me, sir?” Her tone was very business like.

“Yes, my dear. I’m sending you to our Southeast Asia base next week. You’re going to act as an overseer on a project there and you’re to report directly to me but you’ll have to observe Commander Sahalin’s authority as a professional curiosity.”

“I understand Commander.”

“Excellent,” The Commander hissed

After Cynthia left a soft buzzing came from a panel embedded into the table. “Yes?” The Commander spoke into the comlink.

“Commander, your dinner is ready.”

“Very well, send it up.”

Within minutes, a servant brought in the Commander’s dinner, Beef Stroganoff with a burgundy wine and mushroom sauce, his favorite, along with a very fine white wine. Dismissing his server, Cobra Commander removed his helmet and faceplate, and then placed them aside for easy reach. No one has ever seen his face; which had people wondering how badly deformed was his face. But that didn’t concern him what his troops thought, he just wanted them to fight for him. Picking a remote control that resembles a PADD from Star Trek, the Commander turned a wall TV to watch MSNBC and Fox News. Cobra Commander preferred to be well informed on the events happening around the world, since ignorance could have dire consequences. Also he got a laugh out of those liberal nut jobs and their ideals on welfare, education, justice and the environment just to name a few.

One thing he had to disagree with Middle East terrorist is the use of suicide bombers, which was a waste of good explosives, and a man who could have been trained to do more. It’s sad that people would throw their lives away in the name of religion. Another buzzing came from the panel on the table just as he started to dine. “Whatever is, it better be important?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have the latest intelligence reports.”

“Very well, send it down” The Cobra Commander placed his fork on the plate, then placed his helmet and face plate back on; waiting for a Tele Viper to deliver the intell reports.


	5. The Knight Sabers' First Sortie

Part V: The Knight Sabers’ Sortie

In the following weeks, the Knight Sabers have proven themselves in combat. In one mission, Dagger was able to get close to hold her sword to Cobra Commander’s throat, but he slammed the back of his helmet into Dagger’s face to escape. Vipers ran in fear for their lives after being in a firefight with Wolf, she fought like a women possessed, with an M-16 in one hand, an M-4 in the other and plenty of ammo to boot. God help Cobra, with Wolf, they’re gonna need it. Grey Fox wrote in an after mission report, which the finding were verified and vouched by both Duke and Flint, who thanked god for not being on her bad side. Cypher even on a mission caused a little playful mischief, like activating a virus into the Cobra computer network which showed a happy face with the words have a nice day or a doodle of her giving the 'evil eye' and sticking her tongue out. Grey Fox didn't really encouraged nor stifled the personality quirks of her Knight Sabers, because those made them unique, if you make someone too GI, they cease to being human.

Three weeks later, finally caught up on her paperwork, Sylia took the rare opportunity to relax by watching a Chicago Cubs game on a TV in her office, at the commercial break; she stepped to refill her coffee cup. When she returned the final score was showed: Cubs 6, Dodgers 1. Lousy Dodgers, they really need to start winning ballgames, if they want a shot at the World Series. She sighed as she picked up the remote and changed the channel to Fox News, just in time for ‘Your World with Neil Cavuto.’

But the show was stopped for breaking news, “This is a Fox News Alert. A hostage situation has broken out by a radical eco-terrorist group on the campus of MIT, taking students and faculty as hostages and overpowered campus police. We’re also getting unconfirmed reports that the terrorists may have a thermo nuclear device,” a reporter said during footage of Boston PD and Massachusetts National Guard were being deployed. Sylia watched in stunned silence, hoping Mackie was all right; she did not want to see another member of her family buried. Then her cellphone went off.

“Stingray here,” She answered.

“Sis?” A voice whispered in obvious fear of being discovered.

“Mackie? What’s wrong?” Sylia calmly asked, she was starting to get worried but she can’t succumb to her emotions.

“I’m in big trouble, Sis. All hell just broke loose so fast. I’m a little scared,” Sylia hear her brother nearly breaking down.

“Mackie listen to me, and stay calm,” Sylia softly spoke, “Everything is going to be all right. I won’t allow my little brother to get hurt.”

“Hey what are you doing?!” Someone yelled on Mackie’s end.

“Shit! I’m spotted…” Was all Mackie could get out. Sylia could overhear the struggling and two individual attacking her brother.

“Mackie? Mackie!”

“I’m sorry, but communication with criminals is forbidden.”

“Identify yourself!” Sylia ordered.

“Who I am is unimportant. The criminal you were talking with has been charged with raping the environment and crimes against nature,” The man said before hanging up.

Shit! Turning off her cellphone, Sylia was left with a sense of dread, her brother was a hostage. Walking out of her office she headed for General Hawk’s.

“Yes sir, I understand, thank you sir,” Hawk was on the red phone, finishing up a call as Sylia entered.

“Who was that, sir?”

Hawk hung up the red phone, then turned to Sylia, “The Secretary of Defense, by the authorization of the President, the GI Joe team has been ordered to mobilize. The President deemed the situation at MIT a terrorist action.”

“I understand sir, when do we leave?”

“I have some bad news, Sylia. Assuming your brother is a hostage, I want to keep you on the sidelines; seeing this would be a direct conflict of interest for you, I’m sorry.”

Sylia looked at her CO, there was a conflict of interest. Her brother was important to her. “Clayton, you can’t do this. You can’t sideline one of your field commanders for something so petty because,” the emotional mask that hid her true feelings began to crack under the stress of the past couple months and the strain of the situation, it all took a toll on her; Sylia began to cry, “Because he’s all I have left in a family!” 

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Hawk guided Sylia to a couch. She buried her face into his shoulder and wept. Hawk was the only the person who ever saw Sylia cry, usually she kept a tight reign on her feelings to where she was cold and distant; there was the side her friends saw caring and compassionate; and her private side, the one Hawk was seeing where she was worried and concerned about her brother’s welfare. She sobbed for a few minutes more before regaining her composure, Hawk handed her a box of Kleenex so she can dry her eyes. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to breakdown,” Sylia said as she dried her eyes.

“It’s okay, I know you’re worried about your brother. I’m planning on using your Knight Sabers and a few Joes as an insertion team. I want you to promise me that you will keep your personal feelings out of the mission.”

“I promise Clayton, you have my word.”

“Then assemble the troops, Lt.”

Assembling in the main auditorium, the GI Joe team took their seats and talked until General Hawk took to the podium and Sylia stood next to him. “You’re probably wondering why you were called on such short notice?” Hawk asked

“If it about that peephole in the women’s locker room, Clutch and I are innocent,” Shipwreck interrupted, “Steeler, you can have your drill back.”

“Shut up Shipwreck! I’m certain you’ve heard the news that MIT has been taken hostage by a group of eco terrorists who claim to have a thermo nuclear device. By order of the President and the Secretary of Defense, the GI Joe team has been ordered to mobilize and provide support for Boston PD and the National Guard. But our orders do allow us to send in an insertion team to assess the possibility of a nuke and take whatever action necessary to insure the safety of the hostages.” With that Hawk turned the briefing over to Lt. Stingray.

“As Hawk stated, we are sending in a 12 person insertion team composed of the newly formed Knight Sabers and members of GI Joe; we’ll need a Medical Tech and an EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) specialist, Zap, Lifeline you two are drafted. The rest will be on a volunteer basis,” Sylia stated. Standing to their feet, Duke, Flint, Scarlett, Lady J, Snake-Eyes and Grunt volunteered for the mission.

Before leaving the base, Sylia had her team assembled in the armory, her entire team was dressed in black, since this was going to be a night ops. For Lifeline, since he was a Med Tech, a red cross was displayed on the side of his left arm. Sylia armed herself with a SOCOM, an MP-5 and an M-4; with the SOCOM in hand she equipped it with a flash/sound suppressor and an LAM, then placed it into a shoulder harness. Taking an M-16 and an M-9 Lady J also handed Scarlett her crossbow and quiver of arrows. With an almost certain smile of delight, Priss took a Desert Eagle, an M-4 and a pump shotgun; Let’s light this candle! Priss chuckled to herself, she was ready to party. Nene just took a SOCOM with a flash/sound suppressor and an LAM. Rather than using firearms, Linna had two long swords.

An entire squadron of Tomahawk’s took off from the base for Boston. Carrying VAMPs, AWE Strikers and APCs. Two hours later, Boston PD and the National Guard held a defensive line along Albany Street, the standoff went for the 5 hours. Things were tense and worse with the thought of a thermo-nuclear device. “Okay, send in the negotiator,” Colonel Weissman of the Mass. National Guard ordered, “What the hell is this?” He asked as the GI Joe team arrived. 

“General Hawk, GI Joe. What’s the situation Colonel?”

“The situation is under control, sir. Frankly, we don’t need the GI Joe team, you’ll just get in the way,” Weissman told Hawk. Weissman’s opinion of the GI Joe team was so low, Hawk would have to work real hard to disappoint him. Weissman considered GI Joe a waste of tax payer dollars

“Unfortunately, the President and the Secretary of Defense don’t share your opinion. Washington and the Pentagon view the situation serious enough to mobilize GI Joe. If you have any concerns Colonel, fine. Take it up with the necessary superiors and let us go to work,” Hawk told Weissman.

“Very well,” Weissman seethed through clenched teeth and stormed off.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Hawk headed to a make-shift staging area, Grey Fox was currently going over plans for her insertion team. “What do you have planned, Fox?” Hawk hunched down on one knee, noticing the maps of MIT and the local sewer system.

“Dagger, Snake-Eyes; I want you two to sneak in, locate the hostages and the nuke.”

“Got it, Fox,” Dagger replied, Snake-Eyes gave a thumbs up. Then headed for the campus.

Grey Fox continued to brief the rest of her insertion team, “The bulk of the insertion team will go through the sewers…”

“The sewers?! Isn’t there another way?” Wolf complained

“No, the sewers are our best chance of getting in without being detected. Now Flash, Sci-Fi and Breaker; I want you three to be ready to take down the local power grid for MIT at my signal. My guess is we have a small window of opportunity before back-up generators kick in. Any questions?” Grey Fox looked around and no one had questions, “Very well, you have your assignments, let’s move out.”

Wolf, Duke and Flint worked on opening a man hole, while the rest of the insertion team put on their night vision goggles and air filtration masks, since it was going to be dark and musty down there. “I want to wish your team good luck, Grey Fox,” Hawk told Grey Fox as she made final preparations.

“Remember the verse in a certain song, sir, ‘We are America’s best,’” Grey Fox gave Hawk a wry smile. 

Confused, Hawk wondered what she meant by that remark, until he remembered the song, ‘Ballad of the Green Berets,’ what she meant was that the job will get done regardless of being wished good luck or not. “Go ‘em soldier!” Hawk smiled

“Yes sir!” Grey Fox exclaimed enthusiastically then turned to her team, “You heard the man, let’s go to work people!”

“YO JOE!” exclaimed Duke, Flint, Scarlett, Lady J and Grunt.

Climbing down the manhole Grey Fox activated her night vision goggles and the spill light on her M-4. Then she pulled on her air filtration mask. Moving along the narrow walkways on the side of the sewer, the insertion team had walk through god knows what that has built up down here. One thing is for certain Grey Fox was not going to come out of this mission smelling like a rose.

“Damn! It reeks,” Wolf complained, then she glanced at her boots, “Aw shit! In more ways than one.”

“Well, we don’t have much further to go,” Flint replied

Top side, Dagger flatten herself against a side of building, she peered around the corner. There were two sentries approaching her position. She was able to get a good look at the eco-terrorists. An M-4? An AN-94? Kevlar? For environmentalists these nuts are packing the latest military hardware. Dagger wondered, this raised a lot questions no one has the money for or the access to military grade hardware. But Dagger’s black-ops experience reminded her that Russia was so fouled up that someone could sneak a nuclear ICBM, launcher and all, right out of the country without any one knowing about. But US military arms? Usually security is very tight around armories, so there might be an inside job on this. This also reminded Dagger of a black-ops mission, she helped shutting down a black market ring of nuclear arms; she remembered slicing several people with her sword. “Grey Fox, come in.”

“Grey Fox here,”

“Fox, I noticed that some of terrorist are armed with up-to-date US and Russian equipment, like M-4s and AN-94s.”

“Probably black market.”

“That was my guess.”

“Dagger, just locate the hostages and the nuke. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

“Roger that,” Dagger closed her channel.

With a small Mag-light flashlight strapped to the shoulder of her flak jacket, Grey Fox looked at the map of the sewer system to determine her team’s position.

“So where are we?” Lady J asked wiping the sweat from her brow.

“I’m betting we’re near the center of the campus,”

“If I see any turtles walking upright and eating pizza, shoot me!” Wolf remarked sarcastically, she had been down in the sewers too long she was starting to smell like shit. But her comments fell on deaf ears.

“Fox, why hasn’t there been any demands? Don’t terrorist take these kind of actions for some kind of gain?” Cypher asked, she’d seen those movies where the terrorist always had a demand.

Cypher’s question actually made Grey Fox stop and think. “Cypher, there are several possibilities; the terrorists may not have made demands, or the leader of the group or the entire group might willing to die and become martyrs for their cause,” Grey Fox explained, in her experience terrorists were willing to die for their cause perhaps to inspire other people to their cause; good example would be middle eastern terrorists. “Right now we can not stand around and rationalize this, we’ve got a job to do.” Grey Fox climbed up the ladder, lifted the manhole cover.

Emerging from the sewers, the insertion team took up a defensive position. Removing her air filtration mask, Wolf took a whiff of air, the stench she smelled nearly made her puke. “God damn! Smells like something died in that building!” Wolf frantically pulled her mask back on. Heading towards the building east of her position, Wolf turned completely pale when she looked inside. The hallway was covered in blood, “Grey Fox, you may want to see this,” Wolf called out, she just wanted puke.

Entering the building, Grey Fox was not prepared for what she saw. “Oh my god!” She whispered, moving down the hall, she discovered these were classrooms, bodies just lied all over the room, and the walls were pocked marked with bullet holes.

“How can anyone be so inhuman?” Lifeline pondered, disgusted by the carnage.

“Ever heard of Hitler, Lifeline?” Wolf responded. She looked at one of the bodies, it was a young blond woman, just a year younger than Wolf. A look of abject fear permanently etched the young woman’s face. These people never had a chance. Seeing this, Wolf fought herself from crying. She was not weak, she had to remain strong.

“Marquée De Sade would have loved a front row seat to this,” Grey Fox said with a hint of cynicism in her voice.

“Who?” Cypher asked, her voice was quivering, she just wanted to shut her mind off, just feel nothing, but she could not.

“Marquée De Sade was a Frenchman who got his kicks by seeing people suffer. That were where the words sadist and sadistic originated.”

“Fox,” Cypher could only say, before crying uncontrollably, never had she seen such horror in her life.

“Cypher,” Grey Fox said soothingly, cupping the redhead’s cheek with her hand, “Perhaps this has been too much. We’re in the middle of a mission, I can’t have you succumbing to your emotions.”

“That’s pretty insensitive, Grey Fox!” Cypher spat, “You can’t tell me you’re not the least bit horrified by this!”

“What I feel, I control. I will not have myself going to pieces at the first sign of blood. Cypher, I would like you to get back to the staging area.” Grey Fox said, then she called for Scarlett to escort her back. Cypher just gave her CO an ashamed look.

“Hawk, this is Grey Fox,”

“What is it, Fox?”

“Sir, we haven’t located the hostage yet. But we’re in what maybe the math/computer science building. And sir…”

“What is it?”

“These classrooms were used to kill large groups of hostages and we’re finding more bodies.”

“Damn!”

Retracing their steps through the sewers, Cypher and Scarlett headed back to the staging area. “I bet I let the Lt. down, I wasn’t strong to control my emotions.”

“Nene, something else was bothering her. It could be her brother is a hostage or among the dead.”

“Her brother?” Nene asked, then glanced towards the ground, “I feel like an idiot, I accused her of being insensitive and she was worried about her brother.”

“He’s all she has left in a family. I’m certain she didn’t mean to take it out on you. You want to know something?”

“What?”

“I felt like breaking down myself back there and I’m a professional soldier; I’ve seen my share of death, but I’m still human.”

“Does it get easier?”

“No, anyone who can look at a dead body and not feel anything is not human.”

“Thanks Scarlett. I feel a bit better,” Nene said with a hint of a smile.

“Anytime, kiddo, anytime.”

At the athletic area, Dagger and Snake-Eyes crept around on the roof of the locker room near the gym. Nearing the edge of the roof, Dagger gauged the distance. It must have been at least 5 feet between the two buildings. “Wait here,” Dagger told Snake-Eyes. With a running start, Dagger leaped off the roof, and barely made it across. Moving towards the nearest air vent, she removed the vent cover and pulled a directional microphone when she heard some chatter.

“When do we make our demands?”

“Soon, the government will rather give in than see their precious school turned into a crater.”

“I’ve heard that there may be a military insertion team on the grounds.”

“They must be stupid. Conduct a sweep of the surrounding area.”

Placing her directional microphone back into its holster, then Dagger contacted Snake-Eyes, “Snakes, link up with the rest of the insertion team and get them to the gym, and I’ve found the hostages and the nuke.”

“What are you doing?” One of the two eco-terrorists ordered as they approached Dagger. Three more appeared from behind her.

Rising to her feet, Dagger drew her long sword. As she assumed a fighting stance, Dagger was like a tiger ready to strike. Dashing for the two terrorists in front of her, she slashed upward and gave the other a hard kick to the head nearly breaking her neck. The three behind her fired carelessly at her, but Dagger dodged the gunfire. Getting behind a tall air vent, Dagger pulled out two large combat knives. Emerging from her hiding place, she launched a knife. The hurling knife landed into the back of a terrorist. She threw the 2nd one, striking the shoulder of another terrorist.

The 3rd terrorist was able to shoot Dagger in the shoulder

20 minutes later, the darkness lifted from Dagger’s eyes, “I glad you’re awake,” someone said to her. Dagger looked around, she was among the hostages, a lot of the huddled in fear some were praying. Trying to get up, someone gently pushed Dagger back down. “Easy you’ve been shot.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Mackie Stingray.”

Stingray? Could he be related to Sylia? Dagger thought. The young man next to her looked like he was beaten a few times and had a nasty gash on the side of his head. “I’m Dagger.”

The terrorist leader approached the wounded operative along with two guards. “I knew the government would be stupid enough to conduct either overt or covert operations. Now who are you?”

“Dagger.”

Mackie bolted to his feet in defense of the wounded operative. “Look, if this woman does not get medical attention she will die!”

“Quiet criminal!” Barked a guard slamming her AN-94 into Mackie’s back. Dagger frowned at the fact she was wounded, even though she could kill most or all of the terrorists in the room, she can not put the hostages in danger with any overt actions. She had wait for Grey Fox and the rest of the insertion team.

“Snake-Eyes!” Grey Fox called to the commando expert as her unit linked up with him. “Where’s Dagger?”

Snake-Eyes shook his head as a response.

“Captured?”

Remorsefully, he nodded.

“Snake-Eyes, lead us to where the hostages are. We maybe running out of time if they’ve got Dagger.”

Reaching the gym Grey Fox and her insertion team positioned themselves to breach the door and storm the gym. “Grey Fox to Breaker, is your team in position?”

A block away from the staging area, Breaker, Flash and Sci-Fi were finishing working on a transformer box, making sure that the power for MIT was only killed. “Ready to go Fox, just say the word!” Breaker replied into his headset.

Grey Fox signaled to her team to activate their night vision goggles and have weapons ready. “All right Breaker, kill it,” Grey Fox ordered, then pulled out her SOCOM.

Pulling the switch, Flash turned off the power. With the lights out, the insertion team stormed the gym.

“What the hell?! Get someone to get the backup generators on!” The eco-terrorist ordered unable to see anything. Enraged by his plan falling apart, he searched his pockets for the remote for the nuke.

“Drop your weapons!” Grey Fox ordered as she navigated her way through the hostages. “Put your hands behind you heads!” Suddenly power was restored and Grey Fox lifted her night vision goggles. “You’re under arrest! You better comply, my friend with the shotgun has little patience and her finger on the trigger.” Grey Fox gestured to Wolf.

“If you all don’t back off, I’ll activate the nuke!”

Grey Fox narrowed her eyes and took a few steps forward, “You won’t activate the nuke. You would rather live then have your life snuffed out by a nuclear flash.”

“Stay back!” He demanded his hand with the detonator trembled, unable to control as Grey Fox approached closer.

“You don’t have the guts to become a martyr. I’ve faced terrorists with more backbone, you’re rank amateur. You’re used to strapping yourself to a tree than using paramilitary actions,” Grey Fox continued to goad him, raising his hand, he was ready to push the button.

Quickly, Grey Fox shot his detonator rendering it useless. “Stay back!” Throwing open his over coat, there was a couple pounds of C-4 strapped to his body.

“Everyone back off!” Grey Fox ordered as she stepped back.

Running for it, the eco-terrorist leader grabbed the first hostage he saw. “Somebody help!” screamed the hostage.

Grey Fox recognized the voice, her brother. There was no time to think, Grey Fox just ran after him with Wolf following.

Exiting the Gym, a green Saturn blew right past them. “Wild Bill, I need you to track a green 95 Saturn, license number Bravo-X-ray-Charlie-Sierra-2-5,” Grey Fox told the chopper pilot over her headset as she ran to the staging area.

A few minutes later, Hawk glanced at two of his operatives running in. “General, I have Wild Bill tracking the suspect. Request permission to initiate pursuit, sir.”

“Permission granted,”

Hopping on a pair of Silver Mirage motorcycles, Grey Fox and Wolf sped off after the terrorist leader. Contacting Wild Bill, he gave Grey Fox the terrorist’s location; he was speeding down Vassar Street turning left on Memorial Drive.

With the on set of early morning traffic, the terrorist’s driving became erratic and reckless; he would gun his car into oncoming traffic and used the sidewalks to get away.

His erratic driving only slowed him down and allowed Grey Fox and Wolf to utilized short cuts and his behavior to their advantage. “I see the bastard, Boss. Damn! The fucker’s all over the place!” Wolf commented. The two Knight Sabers had to swerve and weave through traffic and pile ups caused by the terrorist.

One motorist nearly crashed into Wolf, called her a crazy bike riding bitch. Wolf gave him the international sign of friendship* as she sped off

Seeing her quarry dead ahead, Grey Fox had a death grip on the throttle and twisted it hard squeezing every last ounce of speed. Even though she would never show it, due to her façade of professionalism, Sylia was very protective of Mackie, but she would not smother him. She did not want to bury her brother, not to lose him like she lost her mother, her father and Uncle Robert. Mackie had too much going for him, only to have the Grim Reaper make a house call. Grey Fox could not and will not imagine losing Mackie; she would rather burn in hell.

Coming along side the terrorist’s car, Grey Fox pointed her MP-5 with her free hand. “Pull over!” She demanded, and she was determined to see her brother out of harm’s way. “I said, pull over or I’ll shoot!”

Jerking the car, the eco-terrorist slammed the front left side into Grey Fox knocking her off her bike. Slamming onto the pavement, she could hear her left arm breaking with a sickening crunch. The spinning back wheel of her motorcycle came into contact with her right leg as the two objects skidded across the road. The wheel ate away at the back of her knee chewing away muscle and cartilage.

Wolf brought her bike to a screeching halt, then ran to the injured Lt. When she saw the banged up Grey Fox; her fatigues nearly covered in blood, her left arm looked like a pretzel. Wolf nearly threw up when she glanced at Fox’s right leg twisted in an unnatural angle. “Fox! Come on wake up!” Wolf pleaded trying to keep Grey Fox conscious. Feelings were being stirred up inside of Wolf, some she never felt towards another person. The feelings for her CO transcended the friendship the two had forged; it was something more what she did not know. “Hawk, this is Wolf! Come in!” Wolf spoke into her headset.

“This is Hawk, go ahead Wolf,”

“Hawk, Grey Fox is down and requires immediate medical attention.”

Hawk was silent for a minute or two, obviously stunned by the news about Grey Fox, “I’ll dispatch a medical evac chopper for her ASAP.”

“Roger that.”

“Priss…” A near silent groan called out to Wolf, “Priss….” The groan was a little louder.

“Easy Fox, take it easy,” Wolf said soothingly, “Help is on the way.”

“Priss you don’t understand you have to save my brother.”

Her brother?! No wonder Sylia took off after that bastard like a bat outta hell!” Wolf realized that Grey Fox had a personal stake in this mission. “All right Boss, I’ll save his ass.”

“Thanks. Thank you Priss.

Wolf hopped on her bike and sped off after the terrorist. “Wild Bill, are you still tracking this SOB?”

“Yeah, I’m on the varmint like a bloodhound. He’s currently at the intersection of Mass. Ave and Hancock Street, about 4 klicks from your position.”

Within minutes, Wolf caught up with the eco terrorist; not wasting time, she pulled out her Desert Eagle and shot out the front left tire. Swerving out of control, the getaway car slammed into a hydrant. Climbing off her bike, Wolf still kept her handgun ready. “Get out of the car and put your hands behind your head, NOW!” Wolf barked.

The driver side door burst open, the terrorist jumped out, his arm wrapped around Mackie’s throat. “If you take one more step, I’ll blow us up,” he warned, showing the C-4 strapped to his chest.

An old fashion Mexican standoff, huh? Wolf thought about the situation. This had her thinking back to one of those Clint Eastwood westerns or the Dirty Harry movies. I love it when the petty robber with a shitty Saturday night special goes against Dirty Harry’s .357 Magnum. Wolf mentally laughed.

“I said back away or I’ll take this kid with me!”

“Then you better ask yourself one question, ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well dumb fuck, do ya’!”

Looking at Mackie, Wolf could see he was extremely scared of what could happen next. “Please just let me go. I beg you,” Mackie pleaded, he just wanted to live, and see his sister again.

“I said shut up!” The terrorist slammed his fist into Mackie’s face.

Driving his teeth into the terrorist’s arm, Mackie made a last ditch attempt to break free. Screaming in pain the terrorist broke his hold around Mackie, allowing him to run.

Wolf fired a shot into the terrorist’s crotch. He fell to his knees in extreme pain, the terrorist collapsed to the ground. “That was for Grey Fox,” Wolf coldly remarked. Then she made her way towards Mackie while Boston PD arrived. “Mackie Stingray?”

“How… How do you know my name?” He asked, still in a bit of shock.

“I’m Wolf, your sister sent me to save your ass,” Wolf smirked placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Is Sylia here?”

“Yes,” Wolf gestured to her Silver Mirage motorcycle, “Come on I’ll give you a lift back to the campus.”

Returning to the campus, Wolf just seemed to disappear in the flood of students, teachers, police, military personnel and reporters. Mackie tried in vain to locate his sister, but everyone seemed too busy to give him the time of day. All he wanted was to see his sister, and it frustrated him that no one seemed to know or care.

“Hello Mackie,” a gravelly voice spoke from behind him. Turning around, Mackie faced an older man with jet-black hair, a leather aviator’s jacket; he held his helmet under his left arm. There was a kind, fatherly smile on his lips.

“General Abernathy?”

“I’m pleased you still remember me. It’s been a long time.”

“I know sir. But Sylia has spoken about you to me and very highly.”

The smile on Hawk’s face grew a little wider, “I think very highly of your sister too. One of the best officers who ever served under me.”

“General, where is Sylia?”

A sad expression came to the General’s face and Mackie had a right to know. “Mackie, Sylia has been seriously injured, last time I checked she was being taken into surgery.”

For the next couple of hours Mackie and General Hawk sat in the waiting room while Sylia was still in surgery. “You think Sylia is going to pull through, sir?”

“Yes, she is going to pull through. Your sister is as tough as they come. A real trooper,” Mackie could see the confidence in his statement; leaving Mackie wondering if there was more to Sylia and Hawk than a work relationship.

“General, you seem to care a great deal for Sylia, do you regret sending her into combat?”

“Mackie, one of the hardest parts of being a commander is sending young men and women to their deaths; especially if you’re very fond of them. I highly respect your sister and I do care about her, but I have to let her do the job she was trained to do, regardless of my personal feelings. I try to act as a mentor and as a surrogate father to her, something I owe your late Uncle Robert, God rest his soul, but I don’t give her special treatment nor does she want it.”

Dressed in surgical scrubs covered with blood, Doc entered the waiting room. “Doc how’s the Lt.?”

“She’s going make it.”

Mackie was relieved to hear the good news, Hawk silently thanked god. “Can I see her?”

“She needs her rest,”

“I’m her brother, I want to see if she okay.”

The black doctor smiled warmly, “Okay maybe a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

Entering Sylia’s room, Mackie nearly backed into Hawk, seeing his sister in the hospital bed. Tubes fed into her right arm carrying drugs, blood and IV solution. Her left arm was completely in a cast up to her shoulder. Her right leg had bandage around the knee and was rendered immobile. Sylia was also on a respirator to support breathing. Usually a very strong woman, Sylia looked very frail lying in that hospital bed. Seeing his friend in her condition, Hawk had a hard time holding back his tears; he cared about Sylia, maybe more than he was ready to realize.

“Sis?” Mackie said to his sister, not really expecting a reply. He took her right hand into his hands. “It’s me, Mackie and I’m here with General Abernathy. Sis, I’m proud of what you tried to do for me and I love you. Please get well.”

“Come on son, Sylia needs her rest,” Hawk quietly ushered Mackie out. In the hall, Nene just came out Linna’s room. “Specialist Romanova,” Hawk called out.

“Yes sir?”

“Can you give the Lt.’s brother a ride back to MIT?”

“Okay,” Nene replied very happily, then turned to Mackie, “Come on, I’ll drive you back. You don’t mind if I pick up something to drink on the way?”

“I don’t mind Specialist Romanova.”

A very cute smile spread across Nene’s lips, “Please, call me Nene.”

“Okay Nene, I’m Mackie,” Mackie chuckled as the two headed for the elevator. Hawk just smiled and shook his head at Mackie and Nene acting like two young people should when they meet. To quote Casablanca, this look likes the start of a beautiful friendship. Hawk mentally noted as he left to grab himself some coffee.

Sneaking into Sylia’s room Priss summed up the courage to approach her friend’s bedside. Placing a chair next to the bed, Priss clasped Sylia’s right hand with her hands. “Why? Why am I having these feelings for you? Feelings I cannot understand. Damn it! I barely know who you are or anything about you! It doesn’t make any sense! I wish you could help make sense of this, Sylia. I don’t understand the feelings I have for you.” Priss reached out and ran her hand through Sylia’s hair she couldn’t understand these feelings. Was it respect? Priss highly respected Sylia as a fighter. Was it loyalty? Sylia earned the loyalty of her subordinates because she was willing to risk her life for her friends and put their well being ahead of her own. Was it something more like love; as a friend, possibly; but some deeper form of love? They were both very lonely, very angry individuals with little family or friends. Sylia seemed to care about not only for Priss but also for the rest of Knight Sabers; she stuck up for her when Beachhead was acting like an asshole and gave her a second chance in the military. Through out her life, Priss never had a person who gave a damn about her. Priss could entrust Sylia with her fiery heart, her undying loyalty and possibly her feelings. Running the back her of hand against her friend’s cheek, Priss couldn’t get over how beautiful Sylia was; it was an elegant, graceful beauty combined with an athletic physique from years of running, swimming and the hours in the gym in between. Also Sylia was one of the most intelligent people she ever met; she was knowledgeable in many things, but she didn’t talk down to her or used words that were hard to understand. Sylia was also street smart due to her Army training; she learned the skills she needed to survive.

Rising from her chair, Priss looked at Sylia one last time. “Please get well, Lt.” Priss whispered. You might mean more to me than I’m ready to realize. Priss mentally sighed as she walked out the door.

After Priss left, a small single tear ran down Sylia’s face.


	6. Aftermath

Part VI: Aftermath

After being discharged from the hospital, Doc confined Sylia to her quarters; she needed at least 3 to 6 months to heal and a couple additional months of physical therapy. Sylia was not happy, she was bored out of her skull; there not much she could do beside read, sleep and occasionally watch TV. What was really frustrating was with her entire left arm immobile inside the cast, which made even the smallest task impossible. It was also very difficult for her to get comfortable; she was aching all over, especially her injured knee. However, there were some high points, Roadblock made most of her meals; the regular food could make her condition worse. From time to time Hawk stopped by to keep Sylia up to speed of work related matters and play a couple games of chess; one game would last for hours since the two were quite adept at strategies and tactics; and took careful examination of the overall situation.

Over time the stitches in that back of Sylia’s knee could come out and she was allowed to walk, but with a cane. Even though this slowed her down, but it was a start. With prior experience as a PT and gym instructor, Linna helped Sylia through her physical therapy, but the downside was Linna was insufferably supportive and had a habit of acting like a mother hen.

One thing Sylia did find odd was every time she was around, Priss would avoid her. Did Sylia offend her in anyway? Was she blaming herself for Sylia getting injured? She had learned there is only one thing more dangerous than Priss when she was loud, when she was dead silent.

“You wanted to see me Lt.?” Priss asked, puzzled that the Lt. would call her to her office at 1800 hours.

“Yes, I do. Please sit down,” Sylia offered, but she wasn’t sitting behind her desk, but in an easy chair, her office was big enough to have 3 comfortable chairs surrounding a small coffee table usually for informal meetings and private conversations. “Care for some coffee?” Sylia asked as Priss sat down.

“Sure,”

Sylia poured her a cup and gave it to Priss. “Priss, I was wondering if I’ve done anything to offend you? I noticed you’ve been avoiding me.”

Placing her cup back on the coffee table, she looked straight into her CO’s eyes, she could tell Sylia was concerned about her. “No, you’ve done nothing to offend me. There are just some issues I’m trying to deal with.”

“About me.”

Priss sadly nodded.

“Priss, if you have some issues concerning me. I would like to know.”

“It’s kind of personal,”

Sylia gave Priss a warm smile, “I promise you it won’t go outside this room. Anything you have to say will be kept in the strictest of confidentially.”

“The night you got injured,” Priss begun, letting out a heavy sigh; trying to sum up the courage to open up, but Priss was never used to this “talk everything out” crap, unless she had ample amount of beer on hand. “Seeing you lying on the ground, nearly on the brink of death stirred some feelings within me.”

“What kind of feelings?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s an honest answer,” Sylia said, “Concern?”

“Yes,”

“Fear?”

“A little.”

“Love?”

Priss shifted her eyes from Sylia to the floor, “I’m not sure if it’s love between friends or is it something more.”

Sylia calmly took this one step at a time. But Sylia couldn’t help but feel touched, Priss was telling her that she cared for her CO. It was possible, Priss did give her loyalty to Sylia during their first meeting in LA, then confronted her after Snake-Eyes injured Nene. “I never realized you might be developing these feelings. I would have figured you might consider me a boring person?”

“No, I don’t find you boring, Sylia,” A small smile came to Priss, “Actually, I’m willing to bet after a few drinks you could be quite a party animal.”

Sylia couldn’t help but give off a light chuckle at that statement, “Don’t press your luck, Sgt.” That little light hearted moment help ease the mood in the room, but there was still the underlying problem. “Priss, do you know how I could to a decision in a difficult matter like this?”

“No?”

“Well, it isn’t what my brain tells me, it’s what’s in my heart and a gut feeling. What’s your gut feeling, Priss?”

Priss thought about it for seemed like hours before she could answer Sylia. “My gut feeling is to explore these feelings, see where they go.”

Sylia took Priss’ hand into her own, “Priss, we forged a friendship, something I never found easy to do sometimes, but I think when I got injured only strengthen our friendship. Perhaps something more will develop between us, probably we’ll become more than friends, maybe family, I don’t know; there are questions I can’t answer.”

Priss didn’t really know to say, in a way to Priss, Sylia would seem to be closest to a mother in a sense. “Sylia, I never said this to anyone before, but thanks for listening to me. In my life I never had anyone talk to, even when I felt like talking.”

“Why?”

“In the orphanage I grew up in, they didn’t care about me, all they saw me as was a failure, never will amount to anything. I became a very angry individual, then up to high school, I had to put up with the same crap from my teachers, until I dropped out, just to get away from that hellhole, Sylvie and I joined the Army. After our tour in Kosovo, we came back to that dump for personal affects; With our combined life savings, Army pay and combat bonuses we managed to get ourselves an apartment. When we did return to that dump, they still considered me a failure, even I though I received the Medal of Honor. Like I said, no one gave a damn about me.”

Sylia gave Priss’ hand a gentle squeeze, “Priss, you’re only a failure if you fail yourself. To put it in another way, you’re too damn stubborn to fail. You may take a punch that sends to you to floor, but you get back up, ready to kick someone’s ass.” Sylia said with a smile, she was well aware that Priss was a fighter and she will fight to win. “Also, Priss if you ever feel like talking, I’ll always be there to listen to you.”

“Sylia, when you said that we may become close as a family?”

“Yes,”

“Does that mean I can call you, Mom?”

Sylia just laughed.

The two women continued talking and learning about each other. Much to Priss’ surprise Sylia did possess a large dirty joke repertoire, not as large as Priss’, but some she never heard before. The two discussed their careers in the military; of course Priss had a few misadventures for example Fort Campbell’s infamous Saturday night Marine massacre; a group of Marine’s visited the base for training, 5 drunk jarheads had to pick a fight with Priss and Sylvie; then 10 more joined in out of respect for the Marine motto ‘Semper Fi,’ when the dust cleared Priss and Sylvie were the only ones left standing and the Fuel Depot was closed for repairs.

“Sylia can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,”

“When do you think we’re going after Cobra again?”

“Ah! The Wolf’s hungry for combat, I see,” Sylia said with a sly smile.

“Nah, I just want to kick Cobra Commander’s sorry ass straight to Mars!”

“Well, you’ll get your chance again Priss. Who knows what that bastard’s planning,” Sylia told her Sgt., “but that’s something I’ll worry about some other time.” Right now she wanted to enjoy Priss’ company and just enjoy herself 

On Cobra Island, Cobra forces were assembled in a meeting hall, Cobra Commander stood at a podium with a huge portrait of him hung from the wall behind him. “With the groundbreaking development of the Battle Android Trooper; we must direct our energies towards enhancing the line or developing new combat machines based on the BAT and our power over the world will be renewed. With this technology at our fingertips, our enemies will understand resistance is futile. Take your sorrow of failure, and turn it into anger! Rise, my soldiers rise! Cobra thirsts for our organization to rise to greatness! To conquest!” Cobra Commander thrust his black-gloved fist into the air, “SIEG COBRA!!!!”

SIEG COBRA!!!

SIEG COBRA!!!

SIEG COBRA!!!

SIEG COBRA!!! 

 

Original Fanfic Idea by Starscream.  
This has been a Starscream production.  
In association with the Zeonic Corporation, GENOM International, SCHAFT Industries, Extensive Enterprises and Decepticon Incorporated. 

 

*Note: SOS is chipped beef and toast, not a favorite meal among military personnel

*Note: A clearing team is much different than a sentry. Because a sentry is just a look out, will notify if back up is needed, while a clearing team actively searches for the intruder(s), and are heavily armed.

*A rude gesture involving one’s middle finger.


	7. Commentary for the Call to Duty

Commentary on the Call to Duty

The genesis of this fic began when I was coming out of high school and starting junior college and I was looking over a fic I wrote called 'Snakes in Megatokyo' where it was my first BGC/GI Joe x-over but taking place in the BGC universe and looking back on it, it was okay but not great especially from some earlier works that were total crap. But one night, I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep and I played out a scenario in my mind of Sylia interacting as an officer in the United States military and a member of GI Joe. That was the genesis, so in the spirit of Larry Hama I started writing character sketches of the Knight Sabers in file card form of their backgrounds such as specialties, military service, etc.

Then I started tacking more in-depth bios of each Knight Saber to give each them of back-story in relation to the GI Joe universe explaining in greater detail of where they come from and that some relation between characters in both universes. Because the one thing I kind of despise about crossovers, especially the more poorly written, is there is no real explanation for the universes to interact except via the usual mundane tropes. So I had a few ideas mapped out, one was relationship between Sylia and General Hawk but I did not want a romance or pairing whatsoever, so I decided to keep it strictly platonic. After some thought, I decided to have it evolve to a father/daughter relationship. My reasoning was quite simple in the matter because a romantic relationship between superior/subordinate would have been inappropriate on a variety of levels; not including being hindrance to the job. But also it would have insulting to Sylia's character as well; as she was intended in the original OAVs but also in her role as a soldier.

I wrote the entire fic in a leisurely fashion because I wanted to establish each character individually and how Sylia recruited them but also establishing them in relation with and interacting with the GI Joe team. Such as I tend view Beachhead as an antagonist to Priss and Nene in different respect: Priss, to him, is undisciplined, unprofessional and unmilitary, in spite of her combat record shouldn't be in GI Joe. Whereas on the other hand, Nene is inexperienced and physically insufficient for the team which she draws Beachhead's unrestrained ire; because of that later on in the fic I laid the ground work where I develop a relationship between Nene and Scarlett as sort of an older sister/younger sister relationship. As to the leisure nature of my writing of this fic, was intended because I also wanted to show them being trained by Sylia, which I drew inspiration from a nonfiction Tom Clancy book on Special Forces I happen to come across in a book store but also the Dirty Dozen where I incorporated a bit of Major Reisman into Sylia's character because I felt it was necessary; it was especially important on the behalf of Nene since Sylia was training her to go into combat.

During the writing the process, I wanted to leave it somewhat open ended because I was deciding whether or not I was going to make it series. But I had some clear objectives in mind as I developing this into a series. I wanted this to take place in the Marvel/Sunbow continuity but I wanted merge the seriousness of the comics while keeping the overall goofiness cartoon to a bare minimum. Which meant I work on Cobra Commander's character; where as in the cartoon he was your typically melodramatic villain, overbearing, inpatient and over-reactive. I wanted to tone him down where he was bit more considerate, a bit more patient, while keeping him in character. Because I wanted the Commander to be a threat, but also a credible villain as oppose to being either a childish buffoon or worst comic relief as shown in the DIC version. Which also why Metal Head won't be in this series; actually as a general rule, anything from the DIC series doesn't exist.

As to the overall goofiness, ranging from situations to Cobra's plots; I wanted to avoid such episodes like the Greenhouse Effect, Iceberg goes South, and the Gamemaster. Because if I really wanted to insult the intelligence of the readers, I would be turning out Captain Planet fanfiction; thankfully there is no chance in hell of that ever happening.

It was unintended consequence but I liked the idea that Cobra was played more behind the scenes and actually have GI Joe deal with a domestic terrorist threat, at the time I came across an article, I forgot where it was either on the net, in the paper or on the news, about a string of arson attacks on car dealerships by the Earth Liberation Front; and being the acerbic person that I am had a little fun at their expense by modeling the eco-terrorists in the Call of Duty after those nutjobs.

Getting back to Cobra, I wanted to end the story on them, because I wanted to leave the door open for future stories, it's strange, looking back on it now, I gave Cobra Commander his Girhen moment, even though I based the speech on a scene from the 2nd episode of Gundam the 08th Team with Ginias Sahalin. While I intended 'Cobra' still remain as their official battle cry, in more formal situations I devised the cry 'Sieg Cobra' in homage to the original Japanese of Mobile Suit Gundam because in the dub they changed it to 'Hail Zeon' to avoid the Nazi connotation.


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